A Bad Idea
by RavenFollower13
Summary: Alright, I've caved: My curiosity has gotten the better of me and I decided to try this ipod-shuffle-challenge thingy. A series of one-shots. M just in case. I have all kinds of inappropriate songs on my ipod.
1. Chapter 1

So, whats a great idea?

Doing that Ipod shuffle-challenge thingy when you've got writers block for your other, continuous stories.

This shall be updated . . . whenever it is I get a new idea. But it'll remain marked as 'Complete' cause there's always a chance I won't add anymore stories.

This will be mainly ZAGR, but who knows; I might add some Tak/Dib or other shit in here somewhere. We'll see.

Enjoy.

_Song: _Next Contestant  
_Arist: _Nickelback  
_Pairing:_ Zim/Gaz  
_Category: _Romance

* * *

**Chapter 1  
"Hopelessly Defensive"**

It was Friday.

He _loathed_ Fridays.

Arguably, it was no worse than any other day. Every night was pretty bad but Fridays, hands down, took the cake. Mondays and Sundays were the easiest, the days he'd use to consider just_ maybe_ not coming to watch. But sometimes on Mondays, the hogs on their sleek bikes came in, randomly, so he never took that chance anymore.

A few times, the owner had gotten into arguments with him. Insisted if he kept getting into fights with his customers he'd get thrown out and wouldn't be allowed back in. That was, until she threatened to quit if he kicked him out. She argued that he was keeping them safe, since the bouncers certainly weren't able to watch them 24/7. He even walked all the girls out to their cars, so no one else would have to, lest someone get hurt and another someone be fired for slacking off in their duties. So he got to stay, sitting in his own booth, sometimes at that bar itself, depending on the crowd population. The owner even hired him on, officially as a bouncer, but more of a guard than anything else.

And besides, every (drunken) partier liked to watch or participate in a good fight every now and then, so it wasn't exactly driving anyone away. And no one even remembered the identity of the person who'd gifted them with that nice shiner of a black eye because everyone had been too drunk or too hungover to even think about it.

The offenders quickly got a gruff, blunt warning before anything frightening happened. If they did it again, he motioned for security and they were escorted out. Mainly it was the other girls who were harassed because one had to be impressively hammered to even _think_ about approaching _her._

She was the pearl of the bar. The diamon serving boos in the rough part of town probably because it paid well. Though, strangely enough, she was the only one who didn't need it. She was the only one who really didn't have to put up with this crap. So why she did, no one knew. Then again no one really knew anything about the hot chick at the bar who could (and wouldn't hesitate to) give you a glare that would sober most up in a heartbeat and send you running with your tail between your legs.

It was the unfortunately hammer that got the treatment that gave the bar a reputation for its fights. The ones that got escorted out _personally_. Only the girls at the bar and ocassionaly the workers really remembered. And if any police came poking around, no one happened to have been watching "just another dumb bar-fight with men too liquored up to even land their punchest."

It might not have been as bad, if it weren't for their clothing choices.

There wasn't really a uniform. Blue shirt of a cerain color on top, something black on the bottom. As the bar prided itself on its attractive workers, the tighter (or thinner, for that matter) the better. It was a win-win situation really, for the most part. The workers didn't get hot in the stuffy bar or worry about taking care of a uniform, and the males (and females) of the club got something nice to look at.

Tonight, the place was packed.

So he just sort of _knew_ there was going to be trouble.

Gaz glanced over at him without emotion. She might as well have been looking at a wall or another empty glass she was going to clean up. Normally she'd gaze at her boyfriend with at least a small about of fondness, but he need to remain inconspicuous to be able to do his job. Especially on a night like tonight. As if feeling her gaze on him he glanced up, smirking at her. A gaze that clearly said, "_You just can't keep your eyes off me, can you?_"

She smirked at him, casually making her way over to his side of the bar, bussing the area two people, now heading towards the dance floor, had just been. It was Zita's table but seeing Gaz, she simply went to fill the girl's space, on the other side of the bar.

"Wipe that smirk off your face before I do it _for_ you," she muttered, never looking at him and quiet enough for only his sensitive 'ears' to hear over the noise.

He chuckled, doing nothing of the sort as he kept his head dow, stirring the colorful liquid placed before him. Had anyone taken the time to notice, they would realize he never actually drank any of it. In fact, he was careful not to even get the condensation on him.

"I cannot help but be smug when you are surrounded by people and yet your eyes instinctively single me out," he replied, still smirking.

A moment later he let out a small hiss, his hand shooting off the table and into the clutches of his other one. Gaz smirked, the wet washcloth still in her hand, where moments ago she had 'accidentally' rested it on his.

"Oops," she said, feigning innocence. It soon dissolved upon seeing his irritated expression and she smirked, turning away to take over her spot again. Zita and her switched seamlessly, and the girl couldn't help but chuckle upon seeing his cross appearance.

"Testy tonight?" She asked, casually, like he was just another customer and she was just the pretty girl at the bar who everyone spilled their secrets to.

He snorted. "You know she doesn't like crowds."

"Oh, no," Zita said, with a laugh. "I think she likes the opportunities. The fights. Watching people get beat up."

"_Ahhhh_," he replied, drawing out the word with a knowing, superior air to his voice. "More theories as to why she works here?"

"I think I'm pretty close," Zita insisted, taking down a bottle from a shelf. "If not already right?"

He laughed, shaking his head. "No, not quite."

"But close?" She pressed.

He looked up and smirked, wickedly. "Close."

So satisfied, she went off to serve the seven men who'd just sat down and were pounding on the tables, demanding drinks in slurred, invigorated tones. She made quick work of it, pulling a pen from behind her ear and opening flipping her book open with a simple flick of her wrist.

"What can I get for you boys?" She asked, with a friendly enough smile, even a small batting of her long lashes.

Aside from the obvious good money, Zita's reason for being here was very clear to Zim; attention. She liked being ogled by men, no matter how intoxicated. A few times she'd even let them pick her up and take her home.

Their mantra of 'Drinks!' switched then to 'Beer!', and Zita, being the most patient of the girls, simply smiled and put her book away, bending down to get the jugs. He saw it coming, was waiting for it, and with a bored sigh in his tone, he lifted his hand and inconspicuously motioned someone forward.

_**SMACK!**_

He sighed, watching as Zita spun around, fury rippling across her features. They were all laughing as she rubbed her no doubt stinging backside. However when she shot him a look he simply nodded his acknowledgement, glancing sideways before picking at his drink again. Several seconds later, all seven of them were outside, thrown on the pavement, and stamped to ensure they would not be allowed re-entry. Gretchen asked Zita if she was alright and when the girl assured her she was fine, they went back to work, Zita cleaning up the small amount of beer she'd spilled when she'd been struck.

Sometimes these people were just too predictable.

"Zim? Zim from High Skool, is that _you_?"

Suddenly, Zim found himself in a hug that was more of a headlock then an affectionate hold. The disgusting, pungent smell of alchohol filtered from every pore on his body, mixing with the sweat and creating a smell that rivaled a skunk's spray.

"Ugh, release Zim at once!" He growled, ducking out from the grip, glaring at him warily. He hated being touched and anyone who invaded his personal space was subject to high suspicious. "Who are you?"

The sweaty, drunk, suspiciously touchy male grinned at him with a lop-sided smile. Zim's lip curled in disgust. He could only do so much to resist his gag-reflex, and if this creature of filth hugged him again, he wasn't so sure that he'd be able to resist his urge to vomit.

"Aw come on, Zim, you don't remember me?" The man questioned, red veins spidering across his big bug-eyes. He was hammered, that much was clear. How he was still able to form sentences without a slur was beyond Zim's knowledge. "Well, I guess not. S'not like we were friends or anything, but, I mean, you just don't forget the green kid. I mean, how many of you guys can there be, right?"

Zim's eyes narrowed, a small amount of recognition filtering into his brain. Bulky, large, caucasian . . .

"_OH_!" He shouted, waving off the initial surprise. "You are that Smacky-boy, correct?" He smirked, wickedly. "You beat up the Dib-monkey a few times."

The man laughed, nodding, slapping a hand on Zim's shoulder as he sat down, uninvited, next to Zim. However, he allowed it, all things considering. So long as he didn't hug him again (_ugh!_) he'd be fine. "Yeah, there you go. Tork's my first name, actually. Man, those were the days. Still talk like you used to, I see. Never got rid of the accent, eh?"

"Accent?" Zim questioned, a brow rising.

Once again, Tork laughed. "Don't sweat it."

_Oh, no_, Zim thought, gaze flicking over Tork's disgusting, smelly figure with distaste. _You're the only one doing the sweating here._

"So what brings you to these parts, Zim?" Tork asked, raising a fist and slamming it down on the table. "Hey, waitress, get me a beer! Budweiner!"

Zim glanced up, more than ready to call security if Zita wasn't in the mood to deal with another one of these people immediately after getting smacked in the ass. However he was immediately surprised to see none other than Gaz, shooting him an entirely justified questioning gaze. Zim never drank with anyone. So who the hell was this?

"Sorry it took so long," She said, politely, but without any real sympathy. "Place is packed tonight."

Tork nodded, sliding his credit card across the table without a glance at her. He took the bottle in his hand, jerking a chin at Zim. "You want something? Drinks on me."

Zim shook his head, gesturing to his own colorful drink that he didn't know the name of. It was just something Gaz had made a habit of putting in front of him, more for appearance than anything else, to keep anyone from bothering him. "No, I am fine."

Tork once again gave a jerk of his head for affirmation, finally glancing at Gaz, who was swiping his credit card through the cash register. He gave her an approving once-over, making Zim's skin prick with irritation. Gaz was _his_. However he was by now well aware of the amount of attention she recieved due to her looks and while he was certainly not yet used to it, he at least knew how to control and compose himself.

"Love this place," Tork stated, taking a swig of his drink. "Best place in town to get a little action."

Zim resisted the urge to snort. If he thought _Gaz_ was going to be the giver of action, he would certainly find himself disappointed. "I suppose."

"So, like I said before, Zim," Tork continued, swivelling his chair towards him. "What brings you to this side of town? Figured someone with your head would be up in the better part of town, like Dib is."

It was true. Dib was now running the Swollen Eyeball, which he'd partnered up with his Dad's industry. How he'd managed to pull _that_ off, no one had quite figured out yet, but the boy, barely twenty three, was now extremely well off in his business. In fact, if his stocks kept up like they were, it was predicted he could retire by thirty. Very impressive, but no less was expected of the Membrane boy.

The _girl_, on the other hand-.

Zim shrugged. "I have matters to attend to that keep me _here_."

"Really?" The burly man questioned, seeming genuinely intrigued. "Like what?"

"More of a _who_ than a what," Zim muttered, before he could stop himself, his eyes widening a moment later.

It seemed the fumes were getting to him.

Tork let out a laugh, his head throwing back, nearly toppling him from the chair. Zim rolled his eyes, waiting for him to finish, expecting the slap on his shoulder that followed.

"Man, Zim, didn't know you had it in you!" He said, still laughing, taking another sip of his drink and nearly coughing it back up. He gave a firm thump to his chest, clearing his throat before continuing. "So, whose the lucky girl?" He looked around, still grinning smugly, like he knew some sort of secret that he could hold above everyone else. "She somewhere around here?"

Zim ignored his question, pressing the glass to his lips to make it look like he was drinking before setting it back down.

"Are you here with anyone, Smacky?" He asked, evading answering.

Tork shook his head, too drung to notice the lack of reply. "Nope. I'm stag. I'm not really into the long-term kind of relationships anyways. I like em Q.E.G., you know?"

Zim shot him a glance, a brow rising again. "Q.E.G.? What is the meaning of this acronym?"

"Three words," Tork replied, counting each of them off with a finger. "Quick. Easy. And Gone."

This recieved another laugh, accompanied by a few surrounding people, who happened to be listening in on the conversation. Zim scowled in disgust at the creatures, wishing that he could just throw them out for no reason besides he thought them gross. But the last time he had done this, he'd gotten caught and then gotten in trouble, so he'd have to put up with them. For now, anyways.

It was this moment Gaz chose to slap down Tork's credit card, sliding it back across the table. Clearly she'd heard the conversation and recognized the name 'Tork Smacky'. Dib had complained about him a few times and she never forget a name that held a grudge. She too would've loved nothing more than to kick Tork out, but no luck. She'd say nothing and have security 'follow him out' if she got the chance.

"You're good," She stated plainly, eying his glass. "Your numbers are in the computer. You want another one?"

Zim glanced down, surprised to find that Tork somehow had downed his whole bottle in their short conversation.

No wonder he was so drunk.

Tork shrugged, "Sure, toots. Why not?"

Gaz's brow rose at the nickname, but otherwise she said nothing and just went to retrieve another drink, snagging Tork's bottle from him to toss in the recycling bin below the counter. She quickly handed him a new one, popping the cap, and sliding it into his eagerly waiting hand.

Zim eyed Gaz's form speculatively, feeling a possessive desire run through him went she purposefully stretched upwards, grabbing a new pen from the top shelf and sliding it behind her ear. He hated what she was wearing. How exposed her shoulders were, one strap on her top falling off her shoulder and her black leather pants hugging every curve of her backside. Those curves were for _him_ to admire, not others to ogle and drool over.

"Got your eye on the icy one, eh?" Tork whispered, nudging Zim with a conspiritorial look on his face.

Zim found it incredibly odd that the Smacky-creature recognized _him_, but not Gaz, the girl with the natural, stunning magenta hair. Than again there was a trend of girls dying their hair obsurd colors lately. No one had quite captured Gaz's hair color, but it could be understandable that Tork, in his drunken stupor, was under the impression she was probably just another punk trying to stand out. But his Gaz didn't need to change herself to stand out; she did that without trying.

"Don't deny it, I see that look in your eyes," Tork insisted, winking at him. "She _is_ something, isn't she?"

_You have no idea_, Zim thought to himself, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. However he controlled himself, shaking his head. "I wouldn't recommend it. This place is very strict on harassing the employees. Unwelcome harassment, of course. That one over there," he jerked his chin casually towards where Zita was conveniently flirting with a particularly handsome dirt-monkey, leaning over the counter and pressing her breasts up with her arms, making quite the impression on the male before her. "Tends to flirt with anything that's worth-while."

This surprised Tork. "You come here often?"

Zim shrugged, once again avoiding the question.

"Well what about that one?" Tork asked, jerking his chin back towards where Gaz was serving someone else, with little interest on her face as she wrote down several women's orders, one of them eying Gaz like she was up for a little (as these people so crudely put it) 'experimenting' tonight. It certainly wouldn't be the first time she got hit on by female's, and probably not the last.

Zim laughed. "She barely gives these people their drinks, let alone the time of day."

He smirked wrly, leering at Gaz as she turned away, ignoring a few whistles some men at a passing table gave her. "I happen to be _quite_ the ladies man, Zim. Just you watch, by the end of the night, I'll have that puppy in my bed begging for more."

Zim stood automatically, startling Tork, who gave him a look.

"Something up?" He asked, a brow rising.

Zim, itching to punch something, shook his head and excused himself to the bathroom, intending to calm himself down.

Gaz noticed his leave and her brow rose. She glanced at the woman who had been eying her, who was now leaning towards her with her heavily painted mouth inching towards hers. Gaz simply turned and walked off, leaving the woman to fall off the chair and on her face.

"Hey, sugar!" Tork shouted, motioning for Gaz with a finger to come. "I got an order for you!"

She gave him an incredulous look, giving the women their drinks before going over to where he was. Tork licked his hand when he thought she wasn't looking, slicking his hair back and sniffing himself. She scoffed when he dubbed himself 'good'. How Tork could consider a stench like that acceptable was beyond her.

"What can I get for you?" She asked Tork monotonously after she approached. "Another beer?"

"How about I get you something?" Tork asked, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. "Want to sit down for a drink?"

Gaz's eyes narrowed, shooting him her signature glare that normally sobered the inhabitants of the bar.

It seemed to have no effect.

_Oh, this is is going to be good . . ._

Zim deeply inhaled the crisp, outside air, feeling refreshed and calmer with every breath he took. He stretched, rolling his shoulders a little. It was always nice to go outside when he became severely irritated and he'd asked one of the bouncer's to keep an eye on the bar for him while he stepped outside for a minute.

Something twitched inside Zim, very close to his spooch.

Before Zim realized why he was back inside the building, shooting past someone, who had no doubt been running to get him, and was met with a sight that made his blood freeze.

Tork was kneeling on the bar counter and everyone around them was watching, the girls shouting for someone to do something. Gaz's wrist and hand were consumed in one of Tork's meaty ones. His other hand was around her waist, forcing her closer to him as he puckered his lips for a kiss. She had her face turned away, seething with rage that was forced down by her immediate surprise.

Before Tork could even think to jerk her towards him, his right cheek exploded in pain and he was hurled across the counter, slammed down, skidding across it and knocking various drinks off before he reached the edge. He groaned, gingerly touching his swollen face and coming back with blood on the tips of his fingers.

"Are you alright, Gaz?" Zim questioned darkly, never removing his eyes from Tork's form as people smartly began moving away from him, anticipating a fight.

Gaz eyed his livid form curiously as she wiped her formerly captive hand off on a wet towel. The girls around the bar were getting the customers away, calling the employees to call attention to the dance floor and off of Zim.

"I'm fine," she insisted.

Zim nodded, saying nothing as Tork sat up.

"Ow, _**thit**_, man!" He shouted, his swollen cheek giving him a lisp. "_**Wha wath that for?**_"

Zim stormed over, gripping him by the color and holding the ginormous man a good four inches off the ground before bringing him very close to his face.

"You." He growled, viciously. "Do _not_. Touch. My. Mate."

"Your . . . wha?" Tork replied, the alchohol finally kicking in, it seemed. Too bad. That meant he wouldn't feel this till morning, when it bruised. "That girls your-?"

"Mine." Zim finished simply. "And I don't appreciate people touching what's mine so aggressively."

And at that, he hurled him onto the floor, lunging on him to finish what he started.

Meanwhile, Gaz was simply observing, a barely visible smirk on her face, her hand gently touching her chin thoughtfully.

_This_ was the true reason Gaz worked on this side of town. She lived at Zim's house (his base, whatever you wanted to call it), in-between the filthy rich and the well-off. With her connections, she could have any job she wanted. She could murder someone and she would get away with it when Zim came and destroyed every bit of evidence. And even if he didn't, for some absurd reason and the evidence went back to her, Dib would fabricate an alien-based story on how his sister was framed and abducted (with or without Zim's help) and her father would pay off any authority figure who said otherwise. She could literally do anything in the world, the universe, that she wanted and no one could stop her. Yet she was here, in a dump of a bar, watching her lover beat the hell out of a man who'd been intoxicated enough to make advances on her.

And she loved it.

The dirty, griminess of the city was not what she loved. Gaz preferred sanitation over muck any day. Nor did she particularly like the club scenes or the heavy smell of alchohol. Not even the attention, like Zita did. In fact, she detested attention. She'd much rather be locked in Zim's house with Gir, away from prying eyes, with the freedom of solitude surrounding her. No, what she loved was this, Zim, fighting. Protective. Furious. She loved it. Was almost addicted to it. Outside of here, before she'd found a job that suited her needs, it was a rare thing for anyone to ever try to make a move on 'his mate' and so a rare time he was filled with this much obscene rage and her this much sadistic amusement.

And the best part was, he knew she loved it.

Oh, it hadn't happened immediately. It never even occurred to him. Not even when she took the strange job. Or when he happened to tag along on her first day, for curiosities sake, and saw her get hit on so blatantly. Almost forcefully. It was only afterwards, when she defended his actions with an impressive amount of manuevering and negotiating, did he begin to suspect it.

When she had her way with him upon reaching his base, his suspicions were confirmed.

It took several employees to rip Zim from Tork, whose face was covered in blood. People were laughing and hollering drunk words that could hardly be understood, but the effect was clear; nobody blamed Zim for beating the hell out of a creep hitting on the bar-maids. Someone had the sense (amazingly) to call an ambulance. Which was Zim and Gaz's clue to take off.

Gaz already had her jacket on and was waiting with the keys when Zim was successfully restrained. He took several shuddering breaths through his teeth before he happened to catch her eye. Her lust-filled, impatient eye.

"You good, man?" Durge, one of the bouncer's, questioned him when he stopped struggling.

Zim nodded, tearing his eyes away from Gaz to look at the man. "I'm fine."

He was released immediately.

"You two better get going," Gretchen urged, nervously, her eyes darting around their uproarious customers. "We'll cover for you."

Zim muttered his appreciation and Gaz simply took his hand, leading him quickly and quietly out of view. Ten minutes later, the bar was still laughing, though no one could quite remebmer what was so funny anymore. And twenty minutes later, when the cops came to investigate, due to a call from the emergency room, no one had seen a thing.

Just another Friday night, it seemed.


	2. Chapter 2

_Song: _Trapped  
_Arist: _Dead By April  
_Pairing:_ Zim/Gaz ft. Dib  
_Category: _Action/Sci-Fi/Romance

I HIGHLY RECOMMEND THIS SONG. ITS FREAKING AMAZING AND IT LITERALLY TOOK ME ONE LISTENING TO FIGURE OUT WHAT I WANTED TO WRITE FOR THIS CHAPTER!

Yeah, I guess this could be placed in between the 2nd and 3rd My Hostage Not Yours series.

Cause you didn't think they stayed out of trouble for _two whole years_, did you?

Enjoy.

* * *

**Chapter 2  
"Indulging a Fantasy"**

He swore, dropping onto his back and shooting upwards, nailing it in the stomach as it let out a horrible screech of pain before fading into a wisp of neon smoke that evaporated within a few seconds.

"When we find Gaz, remind me to recommed she take a break from the video-games!" Zim shouted out, rolling back onto his feet.

Dib, looking particularly strained, nodded his consent. "Agreed."

With the floating pig-swarm dead (and Zim really had to hand it to her here; she made it look so easy when she was playing, although, then again, that _was_ just a videogame and didn't involve any form of physical exursion whatsoever) they were finally able to get a look around.

"Any idea where we are _now_?" Zim pressed as bats shot over head, flitting around like birds.

Dib shrugged, sighing. "Nope. Probably on another level. Hopefully the _last_ level."

"Mm," Zim grunted as they walked onward.

The sky was a desolate green, smeared with brown clouds and occasionally a swarm of bats or two. The ground was all rock, or dirt, really. Black dirt that smelled like, as Zim had put it upon their first entrance into thist level, "Feet and the farts of Gir on a burrito-night." It was gross but they were starting to grow used to it.

Gaz's mind was easily more trying than the most difficult and inventive of safes. There wasn't anything they'd encountered in here that hadn't been extremely puzzling, surprisingly detailed (down to the very touch and smell, obviously), or exhausting to the point where one was tempted to simply give up and retreat, which was always an easy option. Any villain (or mini-boss-battle, really) that they'd come across so far had offered. A door or portal back to the entrance of her mind, where it was safe. But Dib and Zim weren't so easily persuaded and so far, it'd paid off. Dib had a new scar on his arm and Zim was positive he was going to need to be doing repairs on a few of his PAKtcles(1), but that would be more than worth it when they'd find Gaz and get her out of here.

It had been an accident, really.

Just another example of why Zim and Dib should not fight in the presence of malfunctioning devices going under a series of unstable test-runs, next to Gaz, who was already in a temperamental and irritated mood to begin with. To make it a long story short, when Gaz had picked up the device to throw at them in a vain attempt for silence, she'd seen it's sleekness in design and peered at it. When her hand brushed against her dial, there was a flash and Gaz had passed out abruptly, ceasing any further fighting for immediate health-status evaluations.

It became immediately clear what Membrane's device was supposed to do.

It was a teleporter, a direct one, into ones innermost subconscious. Theoretically, it could be a place of peace. A place where one could escape to think freely, without the hampering of physics, and then come back into the real world with the information already stored and ready to become tangible. A truly mad, yet ingenious idea. To be able to fully activate the potentials of the whole brain would be ground-breaking.

However, while Gaz's brain was entirely active, she refused to respond. And the analysis had informed them they had a time limit to retrieve and succesfully re-awaken Gaz before her body shut down and she was permanently stuck in a comatose state. A measly 24 hours. Which seemed like a lot, really, but who knew how quickly time traveled inside the mind? It wasn't like they had a reference.

Where she was, they had no idea. What they were going was also a mystery. What kind of state she'd be in when they found her was something they'd rather not think about and deal with when she _was_ successfully located and retrieved.

At the very least, when they got out of here, they could tell Membrane his machines worked. There was just the problem of the subject getting _out_ of the mind that really needed to be worked on, not getting _in_.

"What's that?" Dib demanded, pausing.

Both were immediately on the defensive, drawing their weapons automatically. It was a precaution they'd learned quickly enough. Anything suspicious was often a trap and if it wasn't, what came after almost always was. Dib had two ray guns, both he'd ripped from the dead corpse of something they'd killed early on. It had been difficult to figure out how to use and he'd nearly shot Zim several time in the process (accidentally, of course) but he'd gotten the hang of them some time ago and they were an extremely effective weapon that did not seem to need reloading. Not that he had any amo to give it anyways.

It seemed Gaz's mind was at least allowing them a fair fight. If you counted swarms of deadly creatures and grueling obstaces 'fair', which Gaz obviously did.

As they waited, Zim used a device from his PAK- which was getting pushed to its limit recently- to peer farther than they could see. Goggles were placed before his eyes, zooming farther out. Dib waited, heard the machine-motions, but refused to look away from the black silhouette against the sky, for fear if he took his eyes off it that it would suddenly explode into a raging monster out to kill them. Which seemed absurd, but as it had happened several times now, he wasn't taking any chances.

Zim's goggles retracted and as he replaced his weapon back into his PAK, Dib holstered his guns in his belt, which he'd loosened specifically for the purpose. It was useless anyways, mainly for looks than anything else.

"It's a gated house," Zim informed him, starting to walk again. "It looks very similar to your foolish Haunted Mansions Earth often visits and decorates around the time of that _**filthy**_ celebration, Halloween."

Dib's eyes widened.

And then suddenly he was past Dib, running at full speed, his weapons redrawn.

"Dib-stink!" Zim shrieked, darting after him, catching up easily. "Have your brain-meats finally rotted? _Why_ in the name of Irk are you running?"

"In Gaz's old games, the last level was always a mansion!" Dib shouted back, spitting his words out as he tried to conserve air to keep running. "I remember, she used to complain about it all the time. Gaz has got to be in there, it's her favorite game of all time!"

"Even if this level of her head is centered around a game, why that one?" Zim demanded back, not nearly as winded. He _was_ an Irken, after all. He was _designed_ for these kinds of things. "How do you know that the final level of her games isn't based around the newer ones? Memories her brain is freshly familiar with?"

"Gaz insists those are the classics. The new Game Slaves out now are just rip-off, unimaginative plot-lines with better graphics. She hates them. Didn't you realize she hasn't been playing as much lately?" Dib shot back, a brow raised.

Zim couldn't resist a jab.

"We're not exactly discussing gaming strategies when we're together, Dib-stink." He replied snidely. Immediately Dib shot him a look of irritation, but now was hardly the time to fight with him.

Besides, that's what got them here in the first place.

They were soon met by gates, which Dib lifted his lazer to shoot down, but unnervingly, the doors swung open. Like they were expected. They took this time to pause, rethink their stragety.

"I don't like this," Dib said, suspiciously.

While Zim was equally nervous, he refused to show it. "It's not like we have a choice, Dib-monkey. Besides, you were the one who ran here. Don't think you can get your feet in the freezer now."

"The expression is _cold feet_, Zim." Dib retorted, despite the fact it really didn't matter.

Zim waved the correction off, unconcerned. "You understood my meaning."

They advanced now at a quick but now reasonable pace, eying their surroundings, waiting for something to jump out and attack them. Barren trees littered the land that sloped upwards into a hill. On it rested the mansion Dib could now see for himself, which did bare a striking similarity to a haunted house. Lightning flashed around it, threatening to hit the house and set it ablaze. The windows were illuminated red and the structure suggested more of a castle-like affinity then a mansion.

"Great, Gaz," Dib muttered, stomping up the unnecessary winding path with bitterness. "Pick the most freaking creepy place you can think of to hide in your mind."

"Don't be such a whiner, Dib-stink." Zim scolded, quoting his girlfriend. "When this is all over, you may complain as much as you like -though I cannot gaurantee you won't be slapped for it- but now is hardly the time to be getting flustered."

Dib rolled his eyes and said nothing more.

The gate to get inside was wide open and the boys shared a look. Zim bent down, snapping a piece off from a nearby stallagmite and throwing it. Immediately, as expected, they snapped shut, shattering the rock and impaling what could've been them on it's pieces.

In unison the two shot, exploding the gates in a fiery and in no way subtle fashion. They knew well by now that no amount of sneakiness would evade a fight if one was expected. So it was best to do things the easy way, with guns and explosions, then waste time trying to be creative. There were so many subtle hidden lessons in here it was funny. Zim was making mental notes, to harass Gaz with later.

"You ready?" Dib asked, when neither of them made a move to go forward.

Zim paused, and then grinned his signature wicked smirk. "Of course."

The two darted inside, mentally preparing for the worse.

What they got was definitely not what they'd expected.

It looked like a Gothic Catherdral that had been converted into a ballroom ripped out of the most recent Star Trek movie. A strange design indeed. Clearly whoever had come up with the architecture was either ingenious or made. So it only made sense that it was in Gaz's mind.

"Impressive," Zim noted, his voice echoing back to his sensitive antennae. His disguise had long since been tossed aside, deemed as useless and hampering his vision, as well as his sound. Normally, these kinds of senses were not necessary, but obviously, these were not normal circustmances. "Truly your sister has far too much time on her hands."

"Yeah, well, she's an odd one." Dib retorted, jerking his chin towards the large doors in front of them, across the hall. "Let's go. We won't get anywhere by staying here."

Zim decided not to point out the obviousness of that statement, instead focusing his attention on ensuring their immediate surroundings were secure. His antennae twitched constantly, forcing Dib to ignore the strangeness of them in favor of focusing on their next move, should his theory prove wrong and they did not find Gaz inside the Cathedral, but only another mini-boss-battle.

The doors once again swung open, revealing a room of equally impressive design and complexity, but considerably large. With the exception that this one had a balcony, leading to who knew where if you got through the opening that could just barely be seen from this angle.

"Damn it!" Dib shouted out immediately, lunging forward in frustration as his head swung wildly around, in search of his sister. "She's not here either!"

Zim heard a wooshing sound overhead.

Immediately he tackled Dib out of the way, throwing them a good ten feet plus, including the distance from sliding across the sleek floor. It burned a little, but it was far better than the impalement he would've gotten by the sword now stuck in the marble floors.

From the large glass windows, lightning fragmented across the sky, making the figure before them even more terrifying. It had a dark purple had, similar to that of a witch's resting on its green head. Portruding from its mouth were two fangs and only one red eyes was visible from the shadows. On its shoulders were a large pad of armor, from which draped a cloak that covered half of its body. From what was visible was more thin, useless looking armor and more straps, though the purpose was unknown. Then again it _was_ a character from a video game. All sorts of unnecessary, cool-looking things were added to those characters that weren't forced to discard what was not essential in battle.

"Oh hell," Dib muttered, readjusting his gun in his hand, which he'd thankfully kept a grip on. "Here we go again."

The character retrieved its glowing sword from the ground with a simple jerk, aiming it directly at the two of them as they got back to their feet.

"You've done well to make it this far," It stated simply. "This is your last level. Our master resides on this level."

"Finally, a villain that monologues something _useful_ to us." Zim stated, relieved. He hardened, glaring at the creature warningly. "Where is she?"

"Currently?" It replied.

Zim scoffed. "Obviously."

"Then I find I am unable to give you an accurate estimation of her whereabouts." It replied, evenly. The articulation this thing held was slightly refreshing to the two, considering their last villains had been pompous, arrogant and kind of stupid. True, they'd been getting smarter the deeper they delved into Gaz's mind, but it was clear this one took the cake when it came to brains. Straight-forward.

"Why?" Dib demanded.

"At this time my master is fighting her own battle, which means moving throughout the castle, depending on the next advancement of her struggle." It replied evenly.

"So . . . you're on Gaz's side, then?" Dib questioned, letting the insinuation seep in.

"Technically."

"So then why try and kill us?" Zim demanded, catching on quickly to Dib's 'inferior' thought process.

"I was instructed to guard the castle from intruders while she defeated her Shadow." It replied. "I was unaware of your identities. However taking them into consideration, this does not change anything. I am instructed to prevent intervention or interference from my master's fight. You happen to be here to do both. You must be eliminated."

"I hate Gaz's twisted logic sometimes," Dib muttered, charging his weapon to rapid-fire.

Zim laughed. "I fail to understand how you didn't see that coming."

The thing chose to rush them then, its cape billowing behind it as it leaped into the air, doing a frontol roll before aiming its weapon downward, at their heads. They both rolled out of the way, Dib skidding on his heal as he rolled to shoot at it, assuming its weapon was in the ground. But it had anticipated their movement and was not rushing Dib, who seemed the easier and more vulnerable target. Dib shot it, reacting automatically and it propelled backwards at the close range, knocking itself towards a wall. It seemed it was about to collide when it manueved itself in the air, shifting to turn its front towards the ground. Instead of its back, its feet hit wall and at once it was propelling back towards Dib, like a sling-shot.

Zim intercepted it in mid-air, barreling forward in the air and slamming it by the throat into the next wall of the cathedral. Something they'd learned fairly quickyl was that physics did not apply very much in Gaz's mind. Gravity and pain were about as much as you could rely on to remain relatively the same.

The thing swiped its sword upward a split second to late, for Zim's PAK leg deflected it. It quickly followed with an uppercat of its hand, this punch succesfully landing on Zim's chest, forcing him to release his hold and back off. However immediately afterward Zim was using his PAK legs once more, stabbing at the creature. It leapt upward, jumping on the leg and when Zim followed through with his other ones, he did it again. Soon the two were in a battle of successive movement, away from the ground entirely, Zim repeatedly stabbing at the wall where the creature was and the creature using Zim's own appendages to gain height and dodge.

Dib remained on the floor, aiming, trying to get a good shot. But they were moving to quickly, Zim's PAK legs moving like a spider up a wall and the thing just a second quicker. It was hard, especially since if the thing moved and Zim moved up after he shot, he'd hit him instead of the thing. And then it'd be down hill from there, because if Dib hit his PAK (currently the easiest target) Zim would be rendered incapacitated and Dib would be left alone, to fight the thing by himself. So now he was only left with one option.

He was attempting to anticipate their movements, which remained relatively simple. The real problem was the distance, which was growing between him and them. How long would it take before it reached them? He wouldn't know till he shot, which was risky, not to mention stupid. And how far were they moving in a segregated time? It was like a math problem, except the factor was indirectly the fate of his sister, depending on him getting the problem right. Zim and the thing reached the roof, and it was now swinging across them, hooking its hands in the ridge of the PAK legs and swinging to the next.

Dib was so distracted with this problem that he failed to notice a new factor in the equasion.

From Zim's angle, he did not.

"Dib!" He shrieked, snagging the thing's cloak on his PAK leg. "Watch out!"

Dib looked up and cried out as a shadow-creature lunged at him, his gun redirecting itself a split-second too late.

A new figure leapt from the balcony, shooting out and knocking the new creature away from Dib with a well-aimed kick to the ribs. It barrelled into the walls, causing a piece of the building to fall apart on top of it and an impressive amount of dust to shoot up into the air.

"The master is here." The thing said simply, immediately going slack with obedience. Zim growled at the dead weight, spinning the thing around and slamming it into the ground. It looked considerably pained but regardless rolled to its feet, kneeling respectfully.

Dib sighed with relief, grinning at the newcomer. "Perfect timing, Gaz."

Zim smirked, eying her up. "I must say, I like the wardrobe change. Are you going to be sporting this look on the outside world as well?"

Gaz seemed to have, at some point, made a dramatic clothing switch. Instead of the jeans and t-shirt she'd fallen asleep in, she now dawned a black body-suit, which hugged her figure and left little to the imagination. Around her hips, slanting at a downwards angle, was a thick, metal black belt that had various compartments in it. She wore equally matching gloves and boots, which hiked up to her knees, also clinging to her legs. Attached to her back was a pouch which held a sheathed sword. All in all, it was quite clear she was ready for, if not already involved in, a war.

"What the hell are you two doing here?" She demanded, through narrowed eyes, ignoring Zim's smart comment completely as she crossed her arms expectantly.

"Saving you," Zim replied bluntly. "Come on, we must get out of here."

"What?" Her eyes narrowed suspiciously, darting between the two of them, as if she suspected trickery. "Why?"

"The device you were playing with was your father's attempt at creating means to divulge freely into ones innermost subconscious, allowing the freedom to think with ones entire brain." Zim explained, quickly, and as simply as he could think of. "However, it has a time limit. If you stay here too long, your body will become comatose in the real world. We have to get you out of here before your system's shut down and you're effectively stuck here forever."

Gaz nodded, seeming to understand. "I figured as much. Something just didn't feel right. The air got more saturated and things started becoming more tangilble then figment."

"The amount of large words being used right now is annoying," Dib intervened, looking irritated. "Can we just go before something else bad happens?"

"Not yet, actually." Gaz said, eyes shifting towards the thing, still kneeling. "You."

"Shadow," it replied, acknowledging her with a nod.

"Wait, wait, wait," Dib said, hands waving around. "You're the Shadow? I thought you were its master!"

"No, Dib," she snapped, rolling her eyes and gesturing towards the rubble. "_That_ is it's master. Or, was, anyways."

"The master's life-force is weak, but still alive," it corrected bluntly. "She will be rising shortly."

"Then I find it a wonderful idea that we leave. _Now_." Zim growled, punctuating his point by gripping her wrist and jerking his chin towards the door.

She glanced hesitantly at the rubble.

"Gaz." Zim hissed, warningly.

Snapping out of it, she nodded, and removed something from her belt. She placed it on the ground, a circular device with spikes rimming the edge, that glowed when it latched onto the floor. The creature eyed it, then her and seemed to accept something.

"Your master fought valiantly," Gaz informed him. "Are you staying?"

"I am loyal to her, Shadow." It said simply. "Even if she _is_ just a side of _you_."

Gaz nodded. The rubble shifted and they took off running, Gaz at full speed and the boys following after her, Zim still holding onto her hand as they ran.

"What did you put on the floor?" Dib called up to her, as she was just slightly in front of him.

"Just trust me; you don't want to stick around to find out!" She called back. "How much time do we have left before I'm stuck here?"

Zim lifted his watch. "Seventeen minutes. But that's about 6 minutes here. Your brain functions strangely timewise."

"Thanks." She retorted, her belt beeping. "Run faster!"

They managed to speed across the ballroom-looking room, shooting outside and down the hill. They got about halfway down before the whole building exploded, knocking them on their knees. Zim caught Gaz, taking her impact and his own. It hurt, but she was fine and about to be safe, so it was acceptable. He continued to cradle her against him as the flames errupted from the building, consuming the ancient-looking building easily. It was a magnificent sight, one none of them could tear their eyes from. Where Gaz had gotten the bomb, neither of the boys were sure, but it was certainly never a good idea to give the temperamental Membrane daughter anything explosive. She already had flames at her beck and call, she didn't need bombs as well(2).

Zim blinked when it began dying down, ignoring the fact that there was not nearly enough smoke penetrating to compensate for the fire currently going on. "We should go."

"How exactly am I supposed to get out of here?" Gaz asked him curiously, turning her head to look at him as she sat comfortably on his lap. Dib did his best to ignore this, rolling his eyes at the inappropriate timing of their affectionate displays.

Zim reached into his PAK, two small circles connected by a wire in his hand. He stuck one on Gaz's forhead and the other on her chest. She blew at the wire that cut across her face. Glancing at Dib, she noticed he was already wearing something of similar origin. And glancing back at Zim, she saw he was currently attaching his own.

"This is going to hurt." Zim informed her, almost amused, as he fiddled with something that looked like a control.

She shot him a confused glare. "What is-?"

And then she was electrocuted.

* * *

The three of them woke with a start, Zim and Dib jumping in their chairs. Gaz's chest heaved upwards, off of the table as her body convulsed with a wicked cough, wheezing and gasping for air several minutes later. Zim stood up as Dib too recovered, massaging his temples. He had a massive headache, for whatever reason and he was particularly drowsy.

Zim proceeded to remove Gaz off of the ventilator he'd placed her on before they'd gone into her head, which had turned out to be a good idea. According to the readings he was examining, it kept her life-force substained and breathing properly while they were unable to monitor her health. He made shooshing noises as she hyperventilated, stroking her hair with a claw and ordering her to calm down.

"H-How . . . longwasI-?" Her hurried sentence broke into another fit of coughs, effectively cutting off her question.

"Ssh," Zim encouraged gently, kissing her on the forehead as he sat down next to her bed. "Everything is fine. Allow your body a bit of rest; it has been put through a lot to keep you alive."

"I'm going upstairs to get an Advil." Dib announced tiredly, standing up and shaking his head as he stomped up the stairs. "Ugh, the crap we get into . . ."

Gaz groaned, eyes squeezing shut as she readjusted. Meanwhile Zim continued running his talons gently through her hair, muttering thanks to the Tallest or whatever higher creature that had allowed Gaz's safe return. She sighed, cheeks flushing red at the stress of events and lack of air. Reading her desire in her eyes, Zim helped her sit up, extremely careful as he handled her in her temporarily fragile state.

"Better?" He asked eventually, removing the mask from her nose and mouth. She jerked a nod. He scowled. "Let me smell your breath. I need to know if you've gotten anything in your system from being on air-support for so long."

And suddenly she was leaning in extremely close to his face, ambery eyes locking onto his stunned ones as she caught him off guard. And then she tilted chin back and blew gently, releasing her air. She could just imagine a rim of air brushing past her lips, circling through the air the short distance from her mouth to his face. As the hot breath reached his face he blinked, rapidly, completely stunned. And and having him thus captivated, she sighed, making a gentle noise, similar to that of a gasp. Zim was completely still, caught off guard and not sure what to do. Gaz leaned forward until she was centimeters from his mouth and they were breathing the same air, leaving Zim hyper aware of how close the two of them were.

"_How do I smell?_" She breathed, resisting the urge not to laugh at the absolute stupidity of speaking that sentence, doing what she was doing.

Zim groaned, completely oblivious to her inappropriately placed sentence, moving forward. Instinctively, purposefully, Gaz moved back, keeping them parted just so. He whined in complaint and she smirked, parting her lips to breathe on him again. She had him leaning forward until he was climbing on the table hovering over her, her hips nestled between his knees and his chest pressed up against hers. And even still, she tilted her head back, preventing him from lip contact, giving him access to her neck instead. Zim kissed this flesh briefly but tenderly, suckling porcelain before licking a gentle line up to the hollow below her ear.

"You smell fine," he hissed in reply, smirking as she snorted at his stupidity.

"Good."

And then she shoved him into the upright position, sitting up and gripping the front of his collar and crashing their mouths together. Zim reacted immediately, gripping her back and pressing her tightly against him. Never would he have expected to end up here after such a mentally and physically trying event. Yet here they were, doing inappropriate and delicious things in her father's lab.

As if his thoughts cursed her, Gaz jerked her head away, turning it to cough into her arm, effectively ending the moment. Zim smiled to himself, sitting them in a less intimate situation. He sitauted her on his lap, resting her head on his shoulder and holding her securely around her waist.

She squirmed. "I'm _fine_."

"You will be." He corrected gently.

"I feel like crap," she grumbled, burrowing her head into his shirt.

"Well you don't have to be so negative." He scowled, mockingly.

Gaz's brow rose. "What exactly am I supposed to do right now, then?"

"Well, look on the bright side, Gaz. He grinned, raking through his hair with his talons. "At least your father's invention works."

She smacked him as he howled with laughter, all the while ignoring her muttered curses of disbelief as to why in the world she was dating him.

So really, it was just another Saturday.

* * *

(1) This is what I'm calling them now. PAKtcles. It just sounds like an official nickname, doesn't it?

(2) As I said, I instinctually put this in the in-between years of MHNY.

If I hadn't instantly made this connection, those two soooo would've fucked on that table. :(

Till the next chapter!


	3. Chapter 3

_Song: _Decode (Acoustic)  
_Arist: _Paramore  
_Pairing:_ Zim/Gaz ft. Dib  
_Category: _Implied Romance/Hurt/Comfort/Friendship/Alliance(is that a theme? Fuck it, it is now!)

This song is intense, I highly recommened it. The second I heard it I stopped development on the chapter I was working on and saved it elsewhere, immediately working on this one.

Enjoy.

* * *

**Chapter 3  
"Unpredictable"**

She couldn't breathe.

Her lips were parted in words she didn't have, hanging in the far from silent air as she waited for her father do something she could not.

One look at him had informed her that he was anything but unwilling, anything but surprised this had happened. Yet despite that, he was still fighting the same fight she was. Shouting at people she didn't know but claimed to know her brother, _really_ know him, how he ticked and why. As if they could even guess how her own brother's mind worked!

"But you of all people should understand that it's for his own good, Professor Membrane-!"

"My son has done nothing wrong!"

Dib was currently hiding behind her father, in what appeared to be a cowardice but was actually a very strategically smart move. They wouldn't dare try to simply drag him off when he was behind the esteemed Professor Membrane. Whether or not they thought better because they thought they'd be struck or somethnig else, Gaz wasn't sure. But standing next to her father with her nails digging into her palms, she knew that if her dad didn't hit them, she would. No one took her brother away from her unless she gave the okay, or he deserved it. And even then, she got to be the judge of that.

And then, from her peripheral vision, she saw several people slowly making their way around behind the small family, huddling very close together. Before anyone could react, Gaz darted in front of her brother, arms to her sides in a protective manner. At 16, she was still almost a head shorter than her brother, a fact that greatly bother her on specific occasions. But those watching her hardly seemed to notice the dramatic height difference as she bore holes into them, a fire in her eyes that dared them to try and get to Dib again.

"Keep your hands off of my brother!" She shouted, something that in itself was surprising.

Gaz rarely raised her voice, and she'd grown out of the temper-tantrums she'd occasionally thrown as a child. She normally favored a venemous but level tone of voice if she was angry. So her yelling made the grown men in white uniform cower, shooting eyes at their superior, who was still arguing with their father.

"It's not up to _you_ what I do with my family." Membrane stated, firmly, fists on his hips, using his height to tower over the smaller man in a business suit. "How I handle my children, as their parent, is _my_ responsibility."

"But the forms-!"

"I don't care how many complaints have been made at his school, or at the town's office!" Membrane shouted, louder than before. "You, nor anyone else, is taking my son away from me!"

Dib's eyes flicked between his sister, whose arms were still out to her side's protectively in front of him, and his dad, who, for the first time, was on his side. In a way, it was nice to have them both here, really acting like a family for once. He just wished that it wasn't because the city was trying to throw him into a facility for the mentally impaired.

Previously, Professor Membrane might've agreed with the town hall. While Gaz would still be reacting just as uncooperative as she currently was, both were well aware that without their father on their side, this would've been a battle quickly lost. However, due to the prediction of these kinds of circumstances, they'd finally confessed to him their secrets. The fact Gaz knew Zim was an alien. The fact she'd seen more proof of other paranormal phenomena with Dib dragging her around then she cared to mention. It had been the longest and most difficult conversation in all of their lives but finally, after several extensive physcological tests and four screaming matches, Professor Membrane had finally acknowledged his children weren't crazy. But that was private matter, and he'd been very firm in letting them know that his beliefs weren't to mentioned in the public eye. But at the very least, he was going to understand now.

And it couldn't have come at a much better time.

"Professor Membrane, if you get in the way of the legal system, we're going to have you arrested!"

Both children froze, staring up at their dad in shock.

Membrane simply crossed his arms. "Then you're going to have to arrest me, Douglas."

"NO!" Dib shrieked, spinning on his heel to fully face his dad, darting in between him and the official-looking legal council. "Dad, you can't-!"

No longer pinned between his sister and his father, Dib didn't realize how exposed he was. Unfortunately for him, one of the wards _did,_ and just like that, Dib Membrane, prodigy of paranormal investigation, suddenly found himself in a restraining bear-hug as he was dragged off towards a van.

"DIB!" Gaz shrieked, running forward until she almost had her hands on her brother, only to find herself held back by two other men. Immediately she began flailing, struggling in her captors grasp. "GET OFF OF ME! DIB!"

"Release my son and my daughter this instant or I will have all of you thrown in jail for kidnapping and assault!"

"Gaz!" Dib shouted, arm breaking free a moment, hand outstretched towards where she was being kept stationary. "Dad! Help me!"

"STOP THIS AT ONCE!"

Dib was thrown in the back of the car, none too gently, and Gaz was dropped to the floor. She was immediately on her feet, spinning on her heel to deck one of her restrainers in the face, sending him skidding backwards on the pavement. And then she ran as both were distracted, gripping the back doors of the van and tugging, propping one foot against the bumper, trying to use all of her strength. Regardless of her efforts and the almost inaudible creak of bending metal, the door would not budge.

"Fucking," she grunted, "Door!"

"Stop that at once, you lady!"

Her hand lashed out again, missing its target but getting the 'professionals' to back off. Dib's hands could be pounding on the door, muffled shouts to let him out sounding through to her. She felt her muscles straining, begging her to stop. But each cry drove her to pull harder, to the point where she knew if she didn't stop she was going to pass out.

Finally, her dad had to come over and remove her, shouting threats to all of them as he demanded the open of the van. He was ignored and Gaz saw that he too hadn't exactly kept his anger under control, the man in the suit who had been arguing with him looking a bit for the worse. He shot Membrane a furious look, saying something about having _him_ arrested for assault, until everyone got in the car and drove off, tires burning rubber on the street road.

That was ten minutes ago.

"They took him," she repeated for the third time, her father still holding her around her shoulders, even after he'd coaxed her off the street to sit down on the porch. "They really took him this time."

Membrane patted her on the shoulders, on a call she hadn't realized he'd started. He pressed the phone against his collar, muttering assurances that Dib would be returned before getting back on the phone to talk to whoever.

"I . . ." She stood up. "I'm going for a walk."

Her father nodded, not having it in him to argue with her to stay. In all honesty, he too wanted to just go for a walk. But unless immediate action was taking, he knew that his son would be locked up for an extended period of time, if not until he was eighteen. A year seemed like eternity when one was confined, and he wasn't about to make his son suffer that kind of torture that solitude brought. Not this time.

Gaz hadn't realized where she was going, picking a direction and just letting her feet do the rest. She breathed slowly through her teeth, trying to make sense of how something to unfair like this could happen. Her eyes narrowed, spitting out a taste like acid in her mouth on the sidewalk. A mother nearbly scolded her for her unlady-like conduct but she was ignored, and the taste continued to stain her tongue.

She was only aware how late it was when headlights flashed briefly on her face before turning the corner and for the first time in who knew how long, Gaz stopped and looked at her surroundings.

It took only a moment to realize she was on the borderline of downtown and home, and her dad was probably going to get worried soon. So she turned and stalked off, keeping any suspicious looking characters at bay with a single flash of still furious eyes. She resisted a shiver as a gust of evening wind sunk into her skin, chilling her to the bone at every blow. Gaz was debating on whether she should just start running home to keep her warm when a silhouette against the moon caught her eye.

It was the hills, in the forest that her and Dib had hid in once when they were younger.

She could run always just run _there_.

To be honest, Gaz really didn't know why she wanted to go to a place that would no doubt be filled with painful nostalgia. And she really didn't know why she was getting so upset over this. Dib had been thrown in the crazy shack for boys, but that was when they were kids, and it was at her father's facility, which he wasn't going to this time. He was-.

Gaz froze at the bottom of the hill, not even realizing how quickly she'd gotten there as the thought slowly sank in.

She had no idea where Dib was right now.

None.

Gaz's hand slammed against the nearest tree she came into contact with, biting her lip to keep from shouting in pain at unleashing her full rage against a sturdy object. She clutched her hand gingerly, continuing her treck up the hillside without pause. It was difficult to see if there was anything seriously wrong with it in the dark, but she figured if she could still move it, it was good enough.

So the blindly raging teenager, more like a normal girl than she'd ever been and yet still so disimilar, continued her treck to an unknown destination. Inwardly, her mind was thrashing and throbbing more than her damaged limb, ordering her to go find Dib and forcing her onwards at the same time. For the first time, Gaz really, sincerely had absolutely no idea what to do.

And she hated it.

She'd never really understood loathing till this moment. No amount of frustratio with her brother or the human race in general could even come close to the pure resentment she felt for her situation and the people who had put her here, on a hill outside city borders and far from her father or any sensible thought. Realizing how suddenly exhausted she was, Gaz stumbled to a halt and slid ungracefully to the flare, staring up at the clear sky, thankful she wasn't out here in the rain. It was a warm night.

"_. . . no idea where she went because **you** can't stop distracting me!_"

Gaz's trained ear honed in on the displaced voice, eyes narrowing to her right, at the base of the hill that overlooked the city. Immediately she cursed herself for not noticing the luminescence peering through the trees before this, marking it up as another reason she hated emotions; one became so absorbed in their head they forgot to remember their surroundings, too.

An inane giggle shot towards her from the distance, making her teeth bare at the nonsensical babble that followed. She couldn't understand a single word of it and resisted the urge to curse, slowly making her way towards the trees. She recognized both voices, and as inappropriate a situation as it was, she was immediately curious as to what they were doing out here. Granted, she probably shouldn't have been out here either, but that was beside the point.

"_GIR!_" Zim barked, any hope of remaining inconspicuous dying with his anger. "_Stop that!_"

Gaz rolled her eyes, moving to a tree that was about a foot inwarsd from where she guessed the clearing started and hoisting herself soundlessly upwards. When she deemed herself high enough she turned and was pleased to find she could see both Zim and Gir easily enough. She kept one foot propper against the tree and tucked the under beneath her, ready to dart away at a moments notice but otherwise making herself comfortable.

The stupid little robot Gaz had found an uncountable amount of reasons to resent giggled once more, but stopped talking.

Zim rolled his eyes, and Gaz was surprised to find his disguise in place. It didn't make much sense to her, since he was miles away from where any prying eyes should be and in the dark.

_Guess you can't be too careful_, she reasoned, automatically, hand tensing as his eyes flicked briefly behind him before going back to what seemed to be some sort of foreign telescope.

"Record." He ordered, and a beep resonated from somewhere Gaz couldn't precisely pinpoint. He continued "We lost Subject 2 some odd minutes ago, no thanks to _Gir_. But the Target is heading East, most likely to the Sanitarium located on the outskirts of the city, where the Professor has the least influence, at least, at a convenient distance for motor transportation."

Gaz's eyes widened.

_He's tracking Dib_. She realized. _And he **was** tracking me._

Then her eyes narrowed further, suspicion and anger putting her on edge as her hand gripped the tree tightly and her body tensed without her prompt, still prepared to run as soon as she believed he knew someone was watching him.

_He's the reason Dib got taken away. _Her mind hissed, her teeth flashing white in the dark as she let out a soundless growl. _I'll kill him if he has anything to do with this outside of that stupid fight!_

In all truth though, Gaz had been there during the most reason fight, the destructive results no doubt the reason Dib's last straw had been pulled. It had actually been an accident, and a sick, queasy feeling swirled in Gaz's stomach as she remembered that she had done nothing more than watch boredly, well aware of the possibilities of the two of them arguing so close to a Power Plant. Never a good thing for two equally unstable, temperamental beings to be withing 100 ft. of something so potentially dangerous. Obviously, this lesson had been learned the hard way.

"Scenario 1: He'll most likely be moved before daybreak tomorrow morning." Zim continued, unaware of Gaz's monologue and internal finger-pointing. "The Professor will no doubt find his son soon enough, aproximitely two days from now if he calls the right people, which he will. However, that will be one day too late, and I cannot risk losing the Target if they transport him where I cannot follow. I'll strike tomorrow night, before daybreak. It shouldn't be too hard. I'll stage some sort of accident and drop him deliriously off in front of his house with instructions in his pocket for his sister."

Gaz's brow rose. Was he really monologuing his plans out in public? She resisted the urge to roll her eyes, keeping sure to train them on Zim and Gir, from her peripheral, in case either of them saw her by accident. She listened intently, curiousity getting better of her once again.

"She'll have to either fabricate the head-injury herself or refuse to let them near him for a proper medical examination." He said, a touch of indecision in his voice as he worked out his plan. "With her temper, and if she can get her father on her side, than I have no doubt she'll easily be able to prevent this. The Gaz-human can be impressively scary like that sometimes, when she's not bored. When the Dib-stink wakes up, she'll have to engrave the cover-story of traumatic amnesia in his head, unless she can think of something better. Maybe suggest in-house treatment if the government's really intent on getting Dib medicated. Although I doubt that this was an approved act of the mayor's, and I doubt he'll risk his neck going after a teenage boy after a failed 'black-ops' mission, so to speak."

Once again, Gaz found herself intrigued. Impressive? Hmm. She'd have to think about that one for later. And actually, Zim's plan wasn't a bad one. It was irritating that he'd come up with this plan while she'd done nothing but wander into the woods, but at least he was including her, in his own mildly twisted way.

"Make a note to delve deeper into the authenticity of the arrest files later." Zim announced, and once again a bodiless beep confirmed him that this would be done. "Aha! Just as I suspected! The Dib is currently being dropped off at the Lakebridge Sanitariam, just outside city limits." He adjusted the lense with a twist of a cap, and several more telescopic-looking things appeared. "He appears to be unconscious and is being carried inside by use of a gurney. Cause of unconsciousness is unknown, but could be one of two thinks; natural exhaustion, or induced by professional staff in various forms, most likely by injection. If they continuously medicate him, that actually might be easier to fabricate some sort of side-effect. Blame the Dib's sickness on drugs or something. . ."

At this point Zim began muttering quickly to himself in a different language, one filled with strange gnashing noises and clicks, as well as human-sounding but wordless syllables. Gaz had no doubt this was his native language and knew Dib might kill to be hearing what she was at the moment. But this was ignored, as a dominant question rung singular in Gaz's head at the moment, and she was far too preoccupied with trying to answer it then to be taking notes.

Why was Zim helping Dib?

As fate would have it, she would soon find out.

Gaz's brow rose as the dully lit pink circles on Zim's PAK began to flash, dull, to vibrant, and back again. Zim's head quirked and he selected one of the panels, which briefly turned white before all of them returned to their original color. Out from the chosen slot came a device she couldn't understand, some sort of square with a grid pattern and funny symbols everywhere. Even with her immaculate vision, Gaz couldn't see everything from this far away. Zim kept his back to her as he, or she assumed, read what it showed him.

A growl rumbled in his throat.

"GIR!" He barked, stomping off outside of the woods, apparently forgetting about his equipment. "We leave now!"

There was no response from the SIR unit, but they both seemed to know he'd follow, eventually. Poised in the tree, Gaz was quickly becoming apprehensive. What had changed? Her eyes flicked back to the forgotten telescope-thingy, wondering what was going to happen to that. Waiting until Zim's loud stomp through the woods was some distance away, she climbed down, slowly making her way towards where it was. She stuck her eye in it, amazed at the clarity of the image. And indeed, she could see the aforementioned Sanitarium, a scowl hiding her pretty features.

"Oh dear. It seems my scanners were right about the unwelcome intrusion."

Gaz spun around, nearly knocking the telescope off the cliff. It wobbled, to Zim's temporary terror, but soon righted itself. Gaz didn't even notice what she'd almost done. And even if she had, there's a strong doubt she would've cared.

"Hello, Gaz-human." Zim said, politely, leaning against the tree she'd been hiding in not moments ago. "Care to elobarate the purpose behind your spying on the Almighty Zim?"

Gaz was mostly unphazed, if not slightly surprised he'd snuck up on her without her noticing. How did he get back so fast, anyways? She crossed her arms, scowling at him. "It's not as if you weren't trying to do the exact same to me."

Zim nodded. "Fair enough."

"Why are you going after my brother?" She demanded, jerking her chin towards the telescope. "Family matters normally remain _in the family_. Which, obviously, you are not. So what's your angle?"

"Angle?" Zim's brow querked, feigning hurt. "Why, can Zim not just prove his generosity by saving his arch-nemesis?"

"Maybe," Gaz admitted. "But _you_ cannot."

Zipper-teeth gleaming white flashed in the growing darkness. "You learn quickly, Dib-sister. Zim is impressed."

"You didn't answer my question."

"Very well," Zim held his hand out to her politely. "If you'll come with me."

"I don't need to be escorted." She insisted, eying his hand with distaste.

"Actually, you do." Zim corrected, haughtily, relishing in her lack of information. Gaz was a scary one. Any chance he had to lord something over her head was to be abused and overused. That went without saying. "Unless, don't tell me, you can fly?"

Gaz growled. "I'm not going anywhere with you until you tell me what the hell you're doing!"

Zim shook his head in mock disappointment. "Such a temper on someone so normally controlled. You_ must_ do something about that, Dib-sibling."

"Zim, I swear on Bloaty's, if you don't stop with your quips and tell me what's going on, I'm going to rip your antennae out and shove them up any orifice I can find!" She snapped, having the sense not to say 'ass'. Zim was an alien, and she knew that. Who knew what went on bellow the belt. Or above, for that matter.

Zim nodded, consenting, standing upright and taking strides until he stood next to her. Rather then look at her though, he looked at the rising moon. "How did we get here, Gaz-human?"

That was random. Her eyes narrowed. "What the hell are you going on about _now_?"

His hand waved out to the city. "Your brother and I, and even you, on more than what you're willing to admit, have ruined your city. It is nothing more than a shadow of what it used to be, even in the literal sense. Constructed and reconstructed from countless battles and petty fights, from knocked over traschcans to the demolition of entire buildings." His teeth gleamed in the dark as he turned to her, again, eyes wide with an excitement she was not comfortable with being directed at her. "Such destruction is glorious, is it not?"

Gaz crossed her arms, snorting as she looked out, anywhere but him. She would never admit it, but he was making her skin crawl with how weird he was being. For the moment though, the questions were forgotten. She had a feeling the monologue would reveal what she wanted to know and more, anyways. "If you say so."

"Which I do." He continued, as if she was serious. His hands moved on their own accord, exaggerating his words with every movement and flick of the wrist. "Imagine, a city where Dib and I did not fight! Where you never unleashed your anger on either of us and broke something carelessly in the process. What would this city be, then? Complete. Unchaotic. And in a sense,_ boring_."

"Your point?" She cut in, impatiently.

Zim smirked at her for her tone. "As children, we hurt ourselves. As teenagers, we hurt the city."

"So I ask you to imagine," he said, politely. "What kind of destruction we'll cause as adults."

She couldn't escape the look of irritated disbelief. "You sneaky bastard."

"Yes!" Zim said, clapping, shooting her a wicked, pleased grin. "So quickly you understand my line of reasoning, Gaz-human. You really should think about switching si-."

"You only want Dib back so that you can fight him again!" She snapped, stepping backwards, away from him. "For your stupid game!"

Zim's eye rose, a dull look appearing on his face. "You expected some form of chivalrous heroism as my motive instead?"

Gaz growled at him. No, she didn't. I knew better than that. As a girl, she knew Dib well. Like the back of her hand, actually. And Zim was always a drone, mindlessly following orders and driven by a crazed urge to destroy the Earth. And now . . . she really had no idea. How could someone so stupid manipulate her without her knowing? How long had he been like this? Gaz felt like she didn't know anything about him anymore. It wasn't even like she really cared about what he wanted her to do, what his intentions were, so much as she was bothered by the fact that she hadn't noticed earlier. She was pissed. Angry. Embarrassed more than anything.

"_Why_?" She spat. "If you're so smart and advanced, why use us instead of some sort of_ death ray_?"

Zim scoffed, waving the idea off like a fly. "That is so cliched and traditional! I'd much rather use my own means to do my own mission." His tongue flicked across his teeth, demonstrating to her how vile he really was. Bastard. She was already sick of talking to him. "And it will be so much more satisfying when you two destroy your own world instead of me doing it. The guilt alone will kill your brother, or, at the very least, drive him insane. And you watching either will destroy you."

"Your beef is with my brother," Gaz insisted, confusion taking its toll again. "When exactly did I get wrapped up in this petty little fued?"

He shrugged, disinterested. "It's your fault for being so interesting."

She rolled her eyes, not wanting to go down this road. Not again. Not like last time. Thus, she began to walk away. She was done with this conversation. If Zim wanted to save her brother and deliver him to her, fine. But she wasn't going to listen to this stupid speech again. "Zim, let's not do this tonight. Just don't."

"Don't what?" Zim hissed, turning. She could hear him glaring after her, feel his pearly red eyes even through his contacts. "Don't remind you of your potential? Praise you for all you're worth? You'll have to more specific, insolent little dirt-girl!"

"_Insolent?_" She scoffed, stopping to glare at him. "Oh, _that's_ rich. Insolence implies a trust or obedience was involved. Don't flatter yourself Zim. If you weren't constantly fighting with my brother, we'd have absolutely _nothing_ to do with each other!"

"Nonsense! That's just your ego talking!"

Okay, _now_ he was pushing it. "I am _not_ arrogant!"

"Aren't you?" He spat, taking deliberate, challenging steps towards her. "You claim you live in a world not up to your standards, not as _mighty_ as you are, surrounded by a population stupider than you. What is arrogance but belittling everything around you?"

"Oh, don't even_ try_ and put us on the same level, Zim." She warned, rolling her eyes at his strategy. "Because we're not. We have nothing in common except my brother, and that's it. Nothing else. Stop pretending it's ever going to be different because you want it to."

Zim smiled. It was strange how such a tiny smirk could hold so much assured confidence in onesself. "Irkens don't ask for what they want, Gaz. We take it."

"Well your already a shitty Invader," She replied, grinning when his lip curled in anger. She'd hit a nerve. "Maybe your an equally incompetant Irken as well."

"You don't realize what you're doing." He growled, in a low tone. "The more you struggle, the harder this is going to be on everyone."

"Until _what_?" She demanded, not threatened in the least. "I submit to you? We become partners, or friends, or whatever you fancy is in the near future? You couldn't even _dream_ of decoding what's in my head, Zim, let alone predict what direction I'm ultimately headed in. But let me assure you now, it's nowhere _near_ the path you're taking."

He sighed. "And here I thought you were smart."

"What do you mean?"

"You're a fool if you plan on letting your guard down because you underestimate me." He insisted, looking back towards the sky. "No matter how far away from me you are, Gaz, I'll cross any distance to get to you. Every obstacle you throw at me, I'll find a way around to get to you."

"_You creepy, sick little monster._" She hissed, nails digging into her palm. She shook her head, dispelling her anger. Gaz wasn't going to let him get to her. She needed to get a hold of herself. Control her anger. "It's no use."

"You're a liar!"

"How _dare_ you!" She snapped. "You don't know anything about me!"

"Why won't you just admit that we are alike? I might go easy on you if you finally show the world what you've been trying to hide. But unfortunately for you, the Almighty Zim is not so easily decieved." He smirked. "Do you really believe I never saw that gleam in your eye when you hurt someone? Heard your tiny giggles when you broke something, but pretended you didn't even notice? Such a wonderful performance, and yet, not sincere in the least."

She scoffed, turning away for the last time. "Whatever. Do your worst. I'm done talking to you."

"But don't you want to know why I'm going after your brother, to rescue him?"

"I think I know already." She muttered, walking off, pulling her jacket tighter around me. Suddenly, the air was extremely cold. She wished Zim was dead. She really did.

But Gaz knew, in every sense, that he wasn't lying. That there was something about Zim that, while he was reckless and psychotic, could be entirely serious when it came to what he really wanted. Could manipulate even the tiniest pieces to make a story that seemed pointless and dumb, unless you were in his head. Fight with someone to destroy the world, and in that descruction, end it. She wanted to be able to truthfully tell herself he was incompetant. That he was such a stupid little freak, that she shouldn't worry about watching her back.

But she did, and she knew it.

Could hear it in his full-hearted laugh that echoed to her in the woods as she practically ran to get home.

_Why me?_ Her mind hissed. _Of all people, why me? Dib is such a more logical choice! So why did he pick _me_?_

_"It's your fault for being so interesting."_

Gaz started running faster.

She wasn't going to get to the bottom of this. It wasn't her job, and any attention to him would only encourage his passes. Did he think she couldn't see what he was doing? Did he think she didn't realize what kind of man he himself was pretending to be to get to her head? Bravado could only get you so far with Gaz. While the motives were real, the malice- the parts that scared her- were all lies used to manipulate her just a little more. To push her till she fell into his arms.

_Even if he takes away everything I love._

At the bottom of the hill, she glared up at the mountain, where no doubt he was watching her right now, a grin on his face and a stir in his squeedily-spooch.

_Even if he destroys everything I care about._

She shivered in the cold, breathing heavily as she thought of how worried her father probably was by now.

_Even if it means that I'll never see my family again._

"You won't win," she hissed out, ignoring the cloud of icy air that expelled from her mouth with every breath. "Ever."

She imagined him reading her lips and smirking at the promise of a challenge.

_Even if it kills me._

_I will _never_ fall to you._

* * *

So . . . this was actually supposed to be romantic.

Somehow it turned cynical.

The song, to me, is about how someone lost sight of who a person really is, and they didn't realize how much they'd changed until they were a completely different person. That's what happens, I think.

And it's always fun to throw Dib in a Sanitarium.

Hope you liked it.


	4. Chapter 4

_Song: _Wild Heart  
_Arist:_ Sabi  
Pairing: (Zim vs. Gaz) ft.. Dib/others  
_Category: _Friendship/Hurt/Comfort

I made a video to this song, or at least, I'm planning on it. I'm making one to the NEXT song I'm using, so** if you want to see a sneak preview **of what's coming up, there you go**.** Find it on my youtube account, which is on my profile. If you can't find it, PM me, I'll send it to you.

_**AU STORY**_. BTW.

Enjoy.

* * *

**Chapter 4  
"My Pet"**

"So what's his name?"

"Uh . . ." His eyes flicked to the clipboard in front of him, pushing up his glasses on the bridge of his nose when they began to slide. "I think it's pronounced _Zim_. I'm not sure. I've only just learned the language. And I crammed, so, I'm lucky I know _these_ letters."

"Mmhmm," she muttered, eying the figure pounding against the tube of glass he was encased in on the floor below her. They watched from a balcony, for their safety, since he wasn't in an entirely secure room yet. Just mobile transport.

He was thrashing so much in the CS fluid (1) that he appeared almost nothing more than a green blur. His clothes had been stripped to be studied, so he was naked as the day he was born. If he was born. It was almost kind of funny how many bubbles he was making, and watching the technicians scramble to hold the tube that sucked them out in place. If he made too many, the concentrated oxygen and carbon dioxide would cluster together and pop. And forcing that much air into his possibly delicate systems could kill him, which was obviously something no one wanted. Dead, they'd only get an autopsy. Keeping him alive had so much more possibilities to it. She thought she saw a bit of red in there somewhere but she couldn't be sure.

"Cool, huh?" Dib said, grinning. "We got lucky, you know. He crashed right into the planet, and we found him unconscious somewhere in the suburban hills. Somewhere called Mission Peak. No fight or anything, just dumped him in the tube and took him back here."

"Yeah," she replied. She lifted a slender white hand, a vibrant green apple in its position. "Fascinating."

Dib gave her a dirty look. She bit her apple and ignored him.

"So does he speak English?" She asked, changing the subject. She was getting irritated with his glaring at her. The reflection of those damned glasses of his was shining in her peripheral vision.

He beamed, looking at his chart again. As the finder, he got access to all the personel files. And as his sister, through him, so did she. Admittedly, it _was_ kind of cool to have inside information on the alien. But mostly it was just annoying to listen to Dib talk so much.

"Actually, he does. I mean, mostly, all he's done is swear at us. A lot. And insult us with weird phrases. But he switches into using these weird muttering, clacking sounds every once in a while, so we assume that's his native language."

"What's his species name?"

"We're not sure yet," he admitted. "But we're going to find out. As soon as he starts cooperating."

Gaz snorted. "I doubt he'll want to talk to any of you guys. You're the ones who brought him here. If I were him, I wouldn't say a word to any of you."

Dib sighed. "Yeah, I know. That's what I've been afraid of. But who else would do it?"

She shrugged. "Dunno."

The most dangerous thing to recieve is an idea. And unfortunately for Dib, he had the worst of them at that moment. His eyes shifted from his clipboard slowly towards his sister, who was watching the creature disappear into another room, where the secure cell, his new home, was built. She could see them putting him inside his new cell on the monitors in the circular room they were currently above. The one he'd passed through not moments ago. It was their security system, as well as their oberservance room.

"Hey, Gaz?"

"No." Was her immediate response, biting another bit of her apple.

"Aw, come on! You didn't even hear what I was going to say!" He whined.

She paused. "Fair point. The answer is still no."

A smirk played at his lips as he thought of the precise way to set the bait. Gaz wouldn't be able to resist. "Even if it meant meeting what could possibly be one of the most dangerous things currently residing on Earth?"

She paused, closing her mouth and pulling the apple away. She watched the now closed doors thoughtfully. Meet the alien . . . People would kill for that. She wondered curiously if people would kill her if she did meet it. Would jealousy drive anyone that far? What an intriguing idea . . . Her live in danger for the hell of it . . .

She spun the apple to peer at the shiny, un-bitten side. "What did you have in mind?"

* * *

Gaz stared at it dully.

"It's sleeping." She announced, eyes refusing to look downwards. "And it's still naked."

"We don't think it's actually _sleeping_," Dib corrected. "We believe he's simply placed himself in a Hibernation-like state to recover from any damage he's taken. If we, say, tapped on the glass, he'd probably immediately wake up and try and break out again."

"That doesn't change the fact he's _still naked_." Okay, she'd looked down.

Dib sighed. "Does it really bother you that much?"

"It's humiliating," she argued insistently, crossing her arms. "How would _you_ like it if people kept trying to talk to you without giving you your clothes back? You know, ripping his clothes off like you could probably be considered a form of sexual assualt. You could be arrested."

Dib rolled his eyes. "Stop pretending to be so self-righteous, Gaz. Just admit it makes you uncomfortable seeing something not hairy and humanoid-looking naked."

"I'm not uncomfortable. I just don't see how you can expect me to carry a conversation with someone whose scared, aggressive, and above all, humiliated. At least _try_ and give the guy some dignity to stand on." She argued, glaring at him.

He let out another breath, turning his back to leave. "Whatever. I'll go work on getting him some clothes. In the meantime, you just stay here and wait for him to wake up, okay?"

Gaz turned to face him halfway, arms crossed tightly over her ribcage. "And what makes you think I answer to _you_ now?"

"Oh, don't be such a pill." Dib retorted, waving his hand to dispell her remark from the air around him. "I'm just asking you to stay put while I do what _you_ asked me to. There's no need to get defensive."

A foul remark too lucrative (and admittedly creative) to write out was muttered.

Dib spun around to stare at her. "Did you just say what I think you said?"

"What are you talking about?" Gaz's eyes widened innocently. "I didn't say anything."

He eyed her suspiciously before shaking his head and walking out of the room, muttering a few things of his own. Gaz smirked viciously and watched him leave until the doors automatically slid shut behind him before turning around, still snickering under her breath about succesfully getting under her big-brother's skin. When she looked up from the floor, however, she was not-so-pleasantly surprised.

Granted, she could not longer see anything immediately, given his new position in the goo he was contained in. Only if she looked purposefully at that shadowed piece of nether-flesh. Which she forced herself to avoid doing out of politeness. While she normally didn't go out of her way to use them, Gaz did, in fact, have manners. And contrary to popular belief, she was capable of administering what she knew about them.

"Oh," she said, simply. "You're up."

He sneered at her, his legs crossed, and his hands resting on his knees. While she was careful about where her eyes went, she still couldn't resist looking at those hands. Very sharp claws covered by seemingly flawless green skin that looked rather queerly colored in the contrast of the pink CS fluid.

"Very observant, Earth-child." He hissed, mockingly. "Are all members of your species this bright?"

"In fact, no. No they're not." She replied, without so much as a twitch of her eye at his nasty remark. "But I'd certainly hope the members of your species are brighter than you are. Or, at least, have enough visual capabilities to notice a giant blue and green rock in the way of their ship. I don't know how many times your people can crash into my planet before something bad happens to it."

A growl errupted from his throat. "Well than maybe you should get a better planet."

"Yeah, well, maybe you should get better eyes. A bit near-sighted, aren't ya?"

"You insolent little dirt-monkey!" He shrieked, shoulders hunching hostilely, claws flexing and unflexing, obviously itching to wring her neck. "When Zim gets out of here, rest assured, your planet will become nothing more than a lifeless crater!"

"Yeah, I'm peeing my pants over here," she replied boredly, sitting down herself. She sat on the floor, too lazy to be bothered about finding a chair. She leaned back, placing her hands behind her to keep her upright.

His face wrinkled, and for the first time, she realized he didn't have a nose. A sort of indent was on his face, but there were no nostrils to be found. His red eyes, however, were extremely prominent, and dominated most of the upper half of his head. His antennae were twitching, as if they too were irritated with her.

"That is truly foul, dirt-ling," he hissed, leaning away from her. He was slightly closer to her than the middle of the round room, but it seemed he wanted nothing more than to want to be as far away from Gaz as possible. "Release your bodily liquids elsewhere, where Zim cannot smell them!"

"I'm not _actually_ peeing my pants, idiot." She insisted, rolling her eyes. "It's just an expression. A phrase. And it was also sarcastic."

He took a moment to process this in his PAK. "Your planet has a stupid way of expressing yourself."

"And you're just all stupid on your own, so we're even," she replied calmly. "Oh, yeah. My brother wanted me to introduce myself when we met. I'm Gaz."

"_Gaz_," He muttered, rolling her name on his tongue. Then he nodded, as if giving her permission to have that name. "Very well, Gaz of Earth. I am Zim, of planet Irk. It is certainly not a pleasure to meet someone as filthy and ugly as you."

"Likewise," she said, smiling and batting her lashes at him a few seconds before reverting to her normal, bored expression. "So what happened, Zim? You make a wrong turn in the Nebulas and crash into Earth? Or are your species really too blind to see a giant planet orbiting in space?"

"My species is _far_ superior than your pitiful planet could ever_ dream_ to be." Zim retorted at once, guffawing at the idea that this could be otherwise. "My ship was damaged after a fight with a she-Irk named Tak, who bears a grudge against me, and in my inability to control my Voot Cruiser, I ended up here, on this pitiful excuse for life-substainment."

Gaz's brow rose, and she sneered at him. "Aw, did you not play nice with the other aliens?"

"I'm Irken," he snapped. "Not an alien. _You're_ the aliens. And clearly barbaric ones, not greeting the almighty race that is the Irken Armada and instead putting me in a cage. If they find out I'm here, there will be war. And I doubt your race would survive a war with the Irkens. Oh, but don't feel insulted." He smirked a vicious smile that showed off how sharp his teeth were. "Species rarely do."

_A bite from those would certainly smart._ She thought, ignoring his obvious threat in favor of examining his teeth. "Mmhmm. Yeah, that's great, Zim."

His eyse narrowed. "Are you listening to me?"

"Nope," she replied, flicking from teeth to his antennae, which had stilled, abruptly. She wondered if she should feel worried or threatened. She didn't, ever, but she wondered if she should nonetheless.

He growled at her lack of attention, and she watched the black stalks fall flat against his head. They then perked, realizing what she was doing and watching her back as her eyes flicked upwards, towards where the the tips were. He briefly moved them around, watching her amber eyes dance wherever they moved. The color was stained with the pink surrounding him, but even still, he could tell her visual-sensors had a very intense color to them. It might've been pretty, if she wasn't so disgusting to him.

"Do you like them?" He asked, retaking her attention. "They're what we use to sense and accomodate to our surroundings. Your strange gelatonous fluids have them on edge. I can't get them to stop twitching much."

"I suppose I should apologize," she said, without much enthusiasm. "So, yeah, I'm sorry."

He gave her a dull look, locking eyes with her while he studied her. ". . . You aren't really sorry, are you?"

"Not really, no," she admitted, letting her gaze drift to where his nose should be. "If I was in your position, would you be?"

"Eh, no, probably not." He agreed, satisfied. "At any rate, Zim was only pretending to be- what's the word for it- _asleep_ when your sibling-unit was in the room, and I heard your conversation." He leered at her, making her eyes narrow immediately. "Do you not like that Zim is naked? Does something as simple as my exposed flesh make you uncomfortable? Do you feel_ sorry_ for Zim?"

"I don't give a damn if they cut your limbs off and made you suck them through a garden-hose," she snapped back, immediately, refusing to let any color into her face. "I am, however, polite enough to pretend otherwise."

"Then you're a terrible actor." He informed her, looking around the room with a pondering expression on his face. "Where is my SIR unit?"

"You're what?"

"My _robot_, pitiful stink-monster. " He retorted, talking in a rude tone, as if he was speaking to an idiotic smeet. "He was with me on the ship. Tell me- Did he survive the crash?"

She shrugged. "Probably not. They most likely have your ship parts around here somewhere, but from what I gathered, you're lucky to be alive."

Zim rolled his eyes. "Of course I'm alive. Irkens are far more superior to your weak race if you couldn't even survive a small orbit-break into a planet."

Gaz sat up more, stretching her arms a little. Her wrists were protesting after holding still so long. Gaz had a bad habit of fidgeting, and she normally stretched to keep herself occupied. "I might be insulted, if I wasn't aware of the position I'd end up in. I'd be like you- caged, and at the mercy of a foreign species. If you ask me, I'd rather be dead."

The words stung. He hissed at her, a cerated tongue flicking over his teeth a moment before ducking back inside the cavern that was his mouth. "A dead Irken is a useless Irken. Know this, _Gaz-_ the second I get out of here, I'm coming after _you_ first. You've no idea how fierce an Irken soldier like myself can be when we assign ourselves a mission. You'll regret the day you ever messed with the likes of_ me_."

She smirked.

"Like I said." She announced, sweetly. "I'm absolutely _quivering_ with fear right now."

At that moment several doctors walked in with Dib, and two gaurds went to station themselves on either side of the door. Immediately Zim's antennae went flat against his head, and Gaz refused to let it show how actually frightening he looked. Directed only at her, he didn't seem to even want to bother looking ferocious. But with a crowd of people in the room and the odds of numbers suddenly against him, he was all primal anger and feral viciousness. She didn't like it. It made him look like an animal. He seemed more intellegent than a stray cat or a rabid dog. Or, at least, she hoped he was. Otherwise these conversations were going to get really dull really quickly.

"Hello, Zim." Dib said, smiling pleasantly, despite the more-than-blatant hostility being directed at him. "I see that you're awake, and you and my sister have gotten to talking without me. I'm Dib. I helped rescue you from Mission Peak."

"Rescue is a poor word for kidnapping and holding the Almighty Zim hostage, foul stink-worm." He growled, in low, threatening tones. Gaz felt a shiver go up her spine without warning, and immediately his eyes were on her, smiling and winking at her in a manner that was in no way friendly. Immediately she glared back and got to her feet.

Dib had his hand on her forearm and the other around her shoulder before she could so much as attempt to make a move. He continued to smile pleasantly, as if she'd done nothing more than get off the floor. And while the doctors remained oblivious, the grip he had on her was anything but inconspicuous. While Gaz certainly noticed and began working to stifle her nerves automatically, Zim too noticed, and made an unreadable face at the action before turning hostile again as someone took a step too close to the container.

_He looks like a wild animal_, Gaz thought immediately, watching as he crouched on all fours, ignoring his now blatant nakedness and glaring at his face.

"We brought your clothes back," the doctor announced, placing them in a robot's hand before it was shoved into the roof of container, too quick for him to react to the opening slot and try to escape. "We can leave, if you'd like privacy, but we'd return soon after. We have a few questions for you. You understand, of course."

Zim's eyes calmly flicked towards every face in the room, memorizing it with a slow scan. His eyes burned worse than ice, and the only one whose gaze didn't falter under his scrutiny was the still seething Membrane sister in her brother's inconspicuous, restraining grasp. And meeting her gaze the longest, he smirked wickedly. Much to everyone's surprise, he sat down calmly, acting in all the world as if he was the most civil being alive.

"Very well," he replied, meeting all of their gazes again. Still, he quickly made his way back to Gaz, that malicious spark twinkling in his eyes for only her to see. "But the only person I speak to is the Earth-girl."

Gaz's eyes rolled to the ceiling. "Of frickin' course."

Another scientest stepped in. "This girl is nothing more than a teenger. She isn't qualified to-."

Suddenly Zim was two inches away from the glass, as close to the man as he could get. Immediately he stumbled backwards, stunned at the obscene display of speed demonstrated. "Are you challenging my orders? That wasn't a request, pig-beast of meat and flesh. I want the girl. No one else."

All eyes shot to Gaz. She glared at no one but Zim, who was getting far too smug for her liking.

_Oh, if that glass wasn't indestructible, I swear . . ._

"Come on, Gaz," Dib pleaded quietly in her ear. "Please? For me?"

She ground her teeth together briefly before setting her jaw. "Fine."

_And so it begins._

* * *

_**. . . Some Time Later . . . **_

* * *

She was on her back, lying next to the glass. On the other side, he layed on his stomach, unable to lay down like she because of his PAK, which had long since been connected to metal tubes that ran through the roof of his containment chamber. Over time, she'd used his need for her specific attention to manipulate him into doing what Dib wanted, to help her brother, and to stop listening to him whine about all the things he couldn't do. It was one less thing. And Zim knew she did it, and revelled in challenge of refusing her. Normally, he won, given his unpredictable nature and his tendency to be frighteningly violent to the point he was more wild than tame. But sometimes, like this time, she'd won.

Under normal circumstances, Zim was far too much for one person to handle, let alone a teenage girl. The mental trauma alone could drive a person mad, let alone his great joy in being as verbally abusive as he possibly could. But Gaz was seventeen, and no ordinary human. Anything he dished out, she could throw back in his face. And with the risk of bodily harm less than zero, she was hardly afraid of any of his threats to do her bodily harm.

"So, you're kind of violent." She said, filling the silence. She had a small, squishy ball she was continuously throwing in the air and catching. Zim was watching her do it and for some reason, they were entirely satisfied with this form of simple entertainment. She'd once tried to introduce him to television, but that had turned out very poorly, with a lot of him ranting and asking far too many questions for her liking. In the end it wasn't worth the headache, and she hadn't tried it again. "Are you all like that, or are you just gifted with blood-lust?"

Zim snorted, resting his chin on his folded arms. "We're all like that. I'm just more blatant about it then others. I suppose my kind could be compared with your sociopathic serial-killers. We're normally very calmly collective when it comes to shedding blood of any sorts. Don't misunderstand, we don't all take joy in it. But we know no such things as remorse or guilt. It's either fun or neutral."

"Neutral?"

"Eh . . . think of it like bathing. It just has to happen. It doesn't really have any morals attached to it, but it has to be done for the sake of hygiene nonetheless. Except, instead of hygiene, it's for the good of the planet."

"I think it's good for everyone when you don't smell like stale corn-chips and BO." Gaz replied, wrinkling her nose at all the sweaty men public transportation often put you into contact with. And normally they were unavoidable, considering they normally drove the car.

Zim turned his head to smirk at her. "You're very opinionated, Gaz-human. You should work on that. I was under the impression from my studies women were supposed to be domestic background figures. You're a very poor example of a female, if you ask me."

"Keep talking, Zim. I'll show you what a live autopsy feels like."

"Oh you will, will you?"

"Yup. And I think I'll know the first thing to go," she said, purposefully eying his now (thankfully) fully clothed 'family jewels'.

Zim quickly caught on to her meaning and shuddered, saying nothing more about the subject. He liked everything just where it was, _thank you very much_. Especially _that_ part of him. When he got out of here, he was going to need that. He had no intention of becoming asexual anytime soon.

"Eh, so, hows the weather today?"

"That's what I thought." She replied, plainly. "And it's raining."

A new thought occured to him. "Your rain-water- Is it drinkable?"

"Um, sometimes. If it hasn't touched anything yet. After that it depends, I guess." She glanced at the index cards Dib had given her for today. She often forgot what it was she was supposed to be getting out of Zim, and Dib often gave her little notes for these sort of circumstances. "Hey, you- Irkens, I mean- have a home planet, right?"

Zim scoffed, rolling his eyes at her. "Yes, of course we have a planet, stupid dirt-monkey. Why do you ask?"

"Well, what do you guys _do_ on it? I mean, you marvel at the fact we almost never leave our orbit. So, where _are_ you guys all the time? What are you doing?"

Zim smiled a little at the nostalgia. "We are, as I mentioned, a violent species. We're at eternal war with neighboring planets, and enslave or destroy everything. When we're not training on Irk, we're elsewhere, conquering, planting spies-."

"You really don't do anything else with your lives?"

He peered at her curiously. "What else is there?"

She gave him a look of disbelief. "You never do anything fun? Like, play videogames or pig out on junk-food? I mean, I know you guys have got a mean thing for snacks, but that's like, normal food for you. That doesn't really count."

Zim's eyes narrowed before his antennae perked, something Gaz had come to understand as an act of revelation, surprise, or when his senses had caught a wiff of something. "Oh, well, sometimes we go to Foodcortia. It's a planet of mass snacking. Very popular, although, the planet _is_ closed for a century or so every once in a while."

She sat up. "Why?"

His gaze became very serious. "The amount of snacking is too extreme for the universe to handle. It has to close to give the galaxy a break so it doesn't implode on itself."

She blinked a few times before shrugging, tucking her hair behind her ear as she looked down at her cards again. "Huh. Weird."

Zim eyed her carefully, glancing at the clock she'd had installed on the wall for him to entertain himself with. One was digital while the other was not. She was still in the process of teaching him how to read the non-digital one, hence the digital one, and he really was still getting used to the two different hours and the difference between am and pm. He wasn't allowed outside his cell to see for himself the change, but she'd brought pictures, once, reluctantly. She refused to talk about their celustual system though, and why the sun and moon changed roles every day. All she'd let him know was the Earth spun on its axis before she'd gotten impatient with his questions and stuck the pictures against the side of his cell. They were still there, actually, hastily taped to the side wall, where they weren't in anyone's way, and he could still look at them.

Regardless of this, it was actually pretty late. Almost 1am, which was longer than she normally stayed. She'd fallen asleep on the floor a few times, and Zim always marveled at how suddenly relaxed she became as opposed to her normal cool, hard demeanor. But always too quickly her brother would come in, politely say goodbye, and carry her off. Where exactly that was, he knew not, and when he asked about where she slept, Gaz had thought she was threatening him, or just being creepy, and he recieved no answer. Once she'd called him a pervert, and he still wasn't entirely sure what that meant. He just knew, knowing her, it probably wasn't nice, and had stuck his tongue at her (something he'd seen her do to her brother a few times) and changed the subject, defensive and pouty for the rest of the night.

But at this hour, as Gaz had told him before, when she'd left without her brother's help, the security guards often fell asleep. So maybe they wouldn't be watching right now. Maybe they wouldn't be watching to hear him say . . .

"You have nice hair, earth-female." He announced dully, watching it intensely.

Gaz immediately stilled, shooting him a wary look. ". . . What did you just say?"

He shrugged. "Zim likes your hair. We don't have hair on Irk. And neither does anyone I can think of, for that matter. The only thing I've seen like it is fur, and that's not very pretty. While it _is_ rather soft, it's simply not the same."

Gaz's eyes shifted around the room, like some camera was about to jump out, and someone in a baseball cap and board shorts was going to scream, "Gotcha!" But no such person appeared. Which meant Zim was serious.

"Ugh . . . Thanks . . . _I guess._" She muttered, tucking it behind her ear again self-consciously. Despite Zim's constant beratement of her race's (and especially her) 'disgustingly sickening' appearance, Gaz knew she was pretty, for a human at least. Flawless porcelain skin, naturally intense hair-color, firy eyes, petite little figure. It bothered her when anyone said it, but she accepted the compliments with a grace her father was always proud of.

But when Zim said it, it sounded so . . . _creepy_. (2)

Zim smirked at her. "You think Zim is setting you up for a trap."

"It wouldn't be the first time," she pointed out, tossing the ball back and forth between her hands. "Besides, since when do you check me out?"

"I'm not _checking you out_. I simply made an observation." He insisted, defensively. He sat up and crossed his arms, turning his back on her. "If you insist on being rude about it, you might as well leave now. It's getting close to the time you fall asleep on Zim, anyways."

Gaz shuddered, and she knew he could feel the vibrations through his antennae by the way they twitched immediately afterwords. They didn't do that as much anymore, since he'd adjusted to the CS fluids, but they still served their purpose. "I don't even want to think about the fact that you've watched me sleep before."

"Why must you insist that Zim is creepy?" He demanded, scowling at her over his shoulder.

"Oh, I don't know, let's think about that, shall we?" She asked, standing, ticking off the reasons on her free hand. "You have at least one death threat for me every day, you're probably more violent than a tiger in heat protecting her cubs, you've got more weapons in your PAK than most small armies, and you like to smile at people when they're uncomfortable. Don't try and lie to me Zim- you_ like_ being creepy. And you know it."

He smirked at her. "How very observant of you."

"Now where have I heard that before?" She replied mockingly, nodding her head at him. "I'm going. Want me to shut the light off in your container?"

He shrugged, lying back down on her stomach. "Sure. Zim will be bored the rest of the night anyways."

She rolled her eyes, heading towards the panel to flick off the gentle glowing lights installed around the rims of the cell. "Goodnight, Zim."

"Sleep well, little stinky Earth-child. Try not to get infected by the bugs in your filthy bed when they bite you."

He heard her scoff before shutting the door behind her, with a mutter of "_jackass._" He rested his head against his arms, thoughtfully eying the now dark walls of gel around him.

Gaz was, unlike almost all the humans he'd come into contact with, a very tolerable human. While he hated the invention itself, he'd been on television numerous times. The film-crew had made him nervous and hostile, and to his surprise, she'd walked into the room with her brother (since _he_ was really the one being interviewed; Zim had been more of a background piece than anything else) and leaned against the glass the whole time. She hadn't had to, he was well aware of that. But she'd come anyways, pressing her palm against the glass in silent acknowledgement of his presence. Letting him know he was still a being, and not some sort of zoo animal on display. When he'd accused her of doing something nice for him, however, she'd ignored him entirely. And threatened to continue doing so unless he stopped being childish. The thought of talking to anyone besides her terrified him, so he'd stopped, and the subject had been a moot point since.

However, it bothered him. Of course, being an Irken soldier, he had an escape plan already formed. But what was stopping him from leaving? It certainly wasn't the hospitality. And while he enjoyed antagonizing the Dib-stink, Zim could irritate anyone. In fact, back home, he was quite famous for it. Which actually might attribute to why a search party hadn't been sent out for him yet. That, and Tak was in charge of that division and probably didn't want him found to tell of her crimes against the Empire. Attacking a fellow Irken was one of the top five crimes, and would surely result in at least her decommission, if not a complete termination of her PAK.

There was no room for traitors in the Empire.

So . . . that only left the matter of Gaz. He _liked_ harassing Gaz and holding conversations with her. More than he probably should. Even if it was just a job to her, he liked to think she had fun too. Surely she had no problem disregarding orders, like himself?

He sighed. This was bed. He needed to get out of here, and soon.

Before he fell in love with this deadly Earth-girl.

* * *

(1) CS Fluid - Containment and Substainment Fluid

**I want to make this a whole new story**, which is why it doesn't have an ending. If I made it, I wouldn't want you to know how it ends? What do you guys think?

Yes? No? Maybe?

Let me know!

Till next time. :)


	5. Chapter 5

_Song:_ In the Next Room  
_Artist:_ Neon Trees  
_Pairing:_ Eh, more of a humor story, but . . . Zim/Gaz are already together in this. Possibly. Maybe you can consider it another MHNY in-between story.  
_Category:_ Humor/Friendship/Romance(ish)

This was actually inspired by this song montaging in the background while I chased my puppy around the house.

Strange things happen within the confines of my home when I'm there alone.

God I need help. -_- Can't even watch_ my dog_ without getting a story idea.

Enjoy.

* * *

**Chapter 5  
"The Misadventures of Little Shit"**

"Gir!" Zim barked, glaring down at his minion with a furious gaze. "What is . . . that_ thing_ you have there?"

"We gotsa puppy! Like me!" Gir said, shoving the brown, fuzzy creature towards his face. "Someone left you a present!"

"Eh?" Red eyes shot to a basket on the floor, a few feet behind where Gir stood. He began his lecture as he walked towards it. "Gir, you are not an Earth-Pet, you are an elite Irken utensil of mass destruction!"

"_PUPPY_"

A pitiful whimpering noise emanated from the strange brown creature in Gir's arms, leaning away from the robot's screeching. Zim's antennae rose at it, but he otherwise made no move to assist it. Not that he even knew it needed assistance anyways. He was an Irken Invader, not a dog whisperer. A note that Gir had either missed or didn't deam edible-looking enough for him to eat rested in the corner of the basket, a violet blanket lining the bottom. Most likely for the creature's comfort.

"_Dear Stranger,_" he monotoned. "_I found this poor puppy on the street, but don't have the means, nor the resources to care for it. I hope that you can do a better job than I could. Sincerely, Not-A-Dog-Owner? . . ._ This is stupid! We do not have time to take care of some furry creature of filth and drool! Gir! Dispose of this '_puppy'_ immediately!"

"Aw, but master!" Gir whined. "It's so cute!"

"Poor, naive Gir," Zim rolled his eyes, shaking his head. "It will die anyways. As an Irken Invader, I believe we should at least give the pitiful Earth-monster a fighting chance in the streets." (1)

Gir's antennae wilted.

And then the face began.

Zim's eyes narrowed. "Gir."

It continued. Big eyes, the lower lip jutting out. The puppy looked around in confusion, oblivious to the fact that his very life was on the line.

"Gir, stop that."

He did not. It got worse.

"Gir, I order you this instant, as your master, stop making that insufferable face!"

The tears started appearing.

"Aw, Gir!" Zim groaned, his resolve cracking. (2) "We do not even know _how_ to take care of this . . . dog . . . puppy . . . _thing_!"

Gir's antennae shot up, immediately cheerful once again now that he'd gotten his way. "But I know some-peoples who _does_!" He sang.

Zim's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "And whose that?"

* * *

**_DING! DONG!_**

"Dib!" Gaz snapped. "Door!"

"Why can't you get it?" He demanded, from the kitchen.

_**DING! DONG!"**_

"_Dib!_"

"Ugh, _fine_!" He shouted back, exasperated.

The annoying thing was really that Gaz was just sitting in the front room, a few feet away from the door. But she was lying down, staring at the ceiling, and apparently couldn't be bothered to move. Dib rolled his eyes, passing her to answer the door.

He swung the door opened, irritated and ready to snap at someone selling things.

Unfortunately, he never got the chance.

"What do you-! Zim?"

"Zim?" Gaz sat up, looking at the door in confusion. "What are you doing here?"

Zim looked tired, like he'd been doing something tedious all day and needed a break. Suddenly Gir appeared, having latching himself onto Zim's PAK, a surprising object in hand.

"We found a puppy!" He squealed, leaping down from his master's head and meandering over to where Gaz was. "Hiya, Mistress! Lookit my puppy!"

Dib shot Zim a look of disbelief. "You got him a puppy? You do realize he's probably going to kill it, right? I doubt Gir could keep a cactus alive, let alone a _dog_."

"I didn't get him the puppy, stupid Dib-stink," Zim snapped, walking into the house, ignoring the fact he hadn't been invited in yet. "Some insane human placed it in a basket on Zim's door and left nothing but _this_ to suffice for information."

Dib caught the card that was thrown his face, feeling thankful he hadn't got a papercut as he scanned quickly over the short letter. "Oh. So someone couldn't take care of it. How sad-."

"Yes, yes, all of your kind is pitiful and sad," Zim interrupted, impatiently. "The point is, Zim cannot take care of this dog either."

"And what?" Gaz questioned. Gir had plopped the dog on her lap several minutes ago, and it was now trying to fall asleep on her. "You expect us to?"

"It is Gir's intention to keep the dog," Zim explained, sitting next to her, eying the sleeping creature with disaste. "However, that is obviously impossible. Zim has no knowledge of how to take care of a dog whatsoever and obviously, neither does he. And as I also have no idea what I'm supposed to do with said dog in this situation, I came to you two for help."

"Aw, what a cute little guy," Dib said, taking the puppy off his sister's lap and sitting on the floor, cross legged, in front of them. It whined at having been moved, but soon, as Dib adjusted him into his own lap, it relaxed and fell back to sleep. "Poor thing. No one wants him anywhere."

"Oh, look," Gaz said, sarcastically, eying her brother with a sneer tugging at the corner of her mouth. "They're bonding."

"Shut up, Gaz," her brother replied, automatically, ignoring her in favor of the dog. "So, I mean, that's great that you have so much faith in us and all, Zim, but, the last puppy that we had was either killed or eaten."

Zim's brow rose, looking to Gaz. "You do not know?"

She shrugged. "We kind of forgot about it." (2)

He laughed. Gir, despite not knowing why, did the same, moving to snuggle with the puppy on Dib's lap. To another person, this might have been considered quite adorable. But unfortunately, no one was in the room to appreciate the cuteness.

"Regardless," Zim finally said, finishing with a few chuckles. "You have more knowledge of Earth-pets than Zim does."

"We could always take him to a shelter," Dib suggested, smirking as the little dog yawned. "I'm sure he'd be snatched up in a minute."

"Shelter?" Zim questioned.

"Yeah, it's a place that takes care of dogs." Gaz explained, pulling out her phone. "Hold on a sec. Let me look up a shelter nearby."

"Any idea what his name is?" Dib asked, scratching the dog in between the ears. It gently readjusted itself to be in the position to lick his wrist, eyes still closed.

Zim gave him a look. "You saw the note, Dib-stink. Besides, I'm sure its brain is far too puny to even remember a name yet at all."

Gaz swore, catching both of their attention. She sighed, flipping the screen so they could see the giant notice in red. "The only shelter in town is closed until Tuesday for renovations."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning it's not accepting anymore pets for three days, Zim," Dib said, groaning. "Crap."

"Speaking of which," Gaz said, eying Dib's leg purposefully.

Everyone looked down.

A unanimous shout of disgust rang out, and Dib resisted the urge not to leap away. Zim threw back his head in laughter, clutching his stomach with pain as he gasped for air. Gaz got up and retrieved the rubber gloves from under the sink, as well as a roll of paper towels, before reentering the room.

"Ugh, go change, Dib!" She ordered, plugging her nose with an ungloved hand. "You smell like baby shit!"

"I wonder why!" He retorted, irritated, placing the dog on the ground where Gaz had laid a few paper towels.

Gir complained as he too was then forced to move before noticing that there was something staining his uniform. His expression brightened considerably. "Aw, doggie left me a treat!"

Zim's eyes widened. Gaz face-palmed.

Gir pawed at it.

"GIR, DON'T EAT THAT!"

* * *

"How old do you think it is?" Dib asked as they sat in the backyard, he now in a fresh change of clothes that were free of any fecal matter.

"If he's already separated from his mom, he's probably eight weeks," Gaz said, phone still in hand, feeding her information. Zim had taken Gir twenty minutes ago and left, temporarily, with the intention of getting "puppy chow", as well as remove Gir's disguise and incinerate it. Several times. The only one who had objected- specifically, Gir -had been ignored.

"He's awfully small," Dib noted, watching as the puppy carefully walked around and sniffed every inch of the backyard. "I wonder what breed he is."

"He looks like a mutt," Gaz stated plainly. "Like something between a terrier, a boxer, and a chocolate lab."

"Since when do you know so much about dogs?"

She gave him a look and pointed to her phone before scrolling down some more. "If the pads of his paws are big, he's probably going to be a big dog. Here, hold this for a second while I look." Dib caught the phone, watching as his sister got off of the extremely old picnic table they were sitting on and slapped her thighs. "Come here, Little Shit! Come here!"

"Gaz!" He shouted, apalled. "You can't call him that!"

"Why not?" She demanded, as the dog came racing towards her, jumping up and barely reeching her knees. She pointed accusingly at him. "He answers to it!"

"That's still not nice!"

"What's not nice?" Zim questioned, a small bag slung over his shoulder and a brown paper-bag in his other hand. Gir was nowhere to be found, but they had doubted he was going to bring him back anyways.

Gaz eyed the bags, nodding at the appropriate amount of food to last for three days. Puppies were apparently supposed to only eat about twice a day, six servings, maybe more. She nodded at the other brown bag. "What's in the little one?"

"The lady at the counter informed Zim I would need treats for the furry monster," Zim explained. "As well as a couple small toys, which she gave me for free."

"Well, that was nice of her," Dib replied, brow rising.

Zim shook his head, "I doubt it. They did not appear to be selling, anyways. I am sure she only did so to get rid of them."

"How nice of her," Gaz mocked, shooting Dib a grin. "He already peed, so you don't have to worry about him crapping on you like he did Dib. Speaking of which, I should get the Little Shit a water bowl."

"Stop calling him that!" Dib shouted after her. She ignored him entirely, walking back into the house in search of some small form of tubaware.

"I think it's an entirely appropriate name," Zim commented as the dog scratched at the door, where Gaz had disappeared. "He's small, brown, and he smells. What other requirements are there?"

Dib's head leaned back until it hit the side of the house, eyes staring up at the sky. "You two are impossible."

"Thank you."

The dog whined and they looked down. He was now in front of the picnic table, attempting to get up on the table where they sat. Dib lifted him reluctantly onto his lap, still wary from being pooped on once already. Pleased at the attention, it quickly began jumping around, licking at anything that it could get close enough to. Including Zim's face.

"Gah!" He shouted, swiping at the dog. "Get away! Refrain from licking the glorious face of Zim!"

"Aw, he likes you!" Dib laughed.

Despite the blanket unwelcome attention, the puppy was now very persistant to make Zim accept his affection, and continued trying. It was this situation Gaz walked out into, small bowl of water in hand, as well as an empty one for the food. She went unnoticed, as Dib was too busy laughing and Zim furiously trying to avoid the dog, and took a few minutes to appreciate the situation before putting both bowls down and walking over to them both.

"You are such a spaz," she said, removing the dog and situating it comfortably in her arms. "He doesn't have cooties."

"Yeah, Zim," Dib mock-scolded, wiping a tear from his eyes. "Don't you know that dog's have cleaner mouths than humans?"

"That does not make them clean!" Zim spat, wiping off the spit on his face. (3)

Gaz noticed the thing beginning to fall asleep on her chest, and resigned herself to find a bed for him. "At any rate, Little Shit here is getting tired again. So where do we want to hole him up for a nap?"

Dib gave her a bland look, "You're not going to stop calling him that, are you?"

"Nope."

* * *

"Ugh!" Zim groaned, burying his face in a couch cushion. "Make it stop that insufferable noise!"

"He won't stop crying!" Dib said defensively, handing it to his sister's outstretched hands. "Geez, this thing is like a baby!"

"Little Shit is just temperamental," Gaz corrected, as it began to calm and fall asleep on her. She smirked at them. "See? It just doesn't like you is all."

Dib's eyes narrowed. "He really is just a Little Shit."

"And you thought his name was offensive," Zim sneered, having lifted his head from the couch.

"It is offensive," Dib insisted. "But it's alsoappropriate."

"I wonder if he's going to be one of those dogs on the news that kills or attacks people." Gaz monotoned, scratching him on his forehead almost fondly. "We could be housing a murderer right now."

"Well he's already been in contact with you for over several hours." Zim grinned at her. "He's sure to be affected by your bad influence by the end of the weekend."

"Then maybe it would be better to kill him before he does something awful." She suggested casually. And suddenly the sleeping creature looked more vulnerable and helpless than innocent and useless.

Dib's eyes shifted between the two of them. ". . . The hell is wrong with you guys?"

* * *

"Zim, grab it!"

"Eh?"

Suddenly a brown blur darted past, temporarily solidifying into the shape of Little Shit as he spun around to growl at them. Gaz and Dib paused warily, waiting for the rambunctious monster to take off again.

Zim then saw it. "What is in his mouth?"

Gaz's eyes rolled to the roof. "Dib left the door to my dad's labs open."

"You're father keeps dead rabbits in his labs?" Zim demanded, lip curling in disgust.

"Failed experiments," Dib corrected, though his tone suggested he believed he too believed this was disturbing. "A reminder that he's made progress."

"And it seems that Little Shit here has taken a liking to them." Gaz hissed, bringing the attention back to situation at hand. "And he won't let it go!"

"He's a small housepet!" Zim snorted, in disbelief, eying the creature that was still eying them all warily. "What challenge could he pose?"

"You try to catch him then!" Gaz snapped, irritated with his belittiling attitude.

Zim's brow rose, and as if realizing the shift in power here, the dog began slowly backing away from Zim. Careful not to make any sudden movements, Zim reached into his PAK, pulling out a far too familiar object and dangling it in the air. You could practically see the dog's eyes dialate.

"See the ball, mangy little earth-monster?" Zim baited, monotonously. He let it move back and forth, and resisted a smirk of triumph as he saw its jaw slacken slightly on the dead animal in its clutches. "Do you _want_ it?" It continued staring.

He bounced it once on the floor.

Hard.

And suddenly the dog had dropped its dead toy, making noises that sounded pitifull close to barking as it leapt at the object once again in Zim's grasp, held well away from where it could be obtained.

"I don't think I've ever hated you more than I do now, Zim," Dib informed him dully, coming back into the room with the appropriate means to dispose of the disgusting thing.

Zim simply shot him a smug sneer.

Gaz rolled her eyes. "You are _such_ an asshole."

* * *

"Look at them sleep," Zim cooed, mockingly.

"Leave them alone," she replied quietly, though not for lack of emphasis on her warning.

Dib was, in fact, quite asleep on the couch. And some time later after the couple came inside with said infuriating pooch, he had discovered the sleeping boy and quickly made himself at home lying beside him. It might've been cute to someone if it was Gaz asleep, but considering it was none other than Dib, no one found it endearing in the least. In fact, Zim was secretly hoping the dog would readjust himself to place his backside in Dib's face and then fart, so he could see his reaction when he woke up.

Hearing his quiet snickers, Gaz shot him another look. "Zim."

"What?" He demanded, feigning innocence. "Zim was doing nothing of consequence!"

"Shhh!" She hissed, eyes darting quickly to her brother and the dog before looking back to him. "You're so stupid sometimes. Look; the longer they stay asleep, the less we have to deal with them. And if you even wake one of them up, the other is inevetably going to wake up too. So please try and gain some form of self-control before I beat you, okay?"

Zim crossed his arms, obviously pouting. "Zim never gets to have any fun."

Gaz's hand went to her face. "_Un-frickin-believable sometimes . . ._"

* * *

They were taking him back today.

Gaz was carrying the dog for two reasons. Firstly, Zim refused to even touch the thing after it had slobbered all over his shoes, and secondly, she didn't want to hear them bitching and monologueing about how carrying a small brown puppy was anything but manly. And thus, she was holding him securely against her chest, ignoring him and leaning her face away from his excitable tongue. Really, he seemed to just want to put that slimy thing everywhere, didn't he?

"Ugh, as much fun as this weekend has been Little Shit, I can't say I'm entirely sorry to see you go," she intoned, stroking his head to distract him and keep his tongue inside his damned mouth.

"Aw, don't be like that, Gaz," Dib scolded humorously, scratching the dog under its chin. It yipped, not quite ready to bark yet, apparently, obviously pleased. "He wasn't_ that_ bad! And at any rate, he doesn't know better yet anyways."

Zim snorted, holding the door open for her as she passed before letting it close behind them. Dib was already talking to the secretary.

"As if that's an excuse," he muttered to Gaz. Said girl smiled slightly at him before Dib waved them over, gesturing to the dog when they approached.

The woman at the counter was plain, wearing a dark polo with the pound's insignia on it. She smiled affectionately at the puppy, even more so when it yipped at her again. Clearly, this was a woman who loved her job. "What a cute little puppy! Are you here to register it, then?"

Dib shook his head. It went without saying that he should be the one to handle interaction with the staff, as Gaz and Zim would've probably called this woman an idiot by now and have been kicked out several seconds ago.

"Uh, no, actually," he said, politely, but quickly becoming uncomfortable as the woman's facial expression changed. "We're here to give the dog to the pound."

". . . Oh," she said, obviously dejected. "Well, that's too bad . . ."

Zim's eyes narrowed immediately. He was well aware of what these people tried to do, on a daily basis. Humans were easily manipulated if they felt guilty about something. And it was exactly these sorts of peoples' jobs to exploit that guilt in the attempt to adopt out as many animals as possible, regardless of whether or not it was a suitable home that could provide for the dog.

He hated public facilities.

"You know," She began, in a way that seemed both genuinely upset and practiced in the mirror at home. "If a dog isn't adopted here, it gets put down. And the more animals here, the more likely it is that animals will overcrowd the facility, and eventually be put down out of necessity. Isn't that _sad_?"

Dib was caving, awkwardly. "Well, I mean, yeah, we found it, but we know nothing about taking care of a dog, let alone a puppy."

"Our last one disappeared," Gaz offered, helpfully, tired of the situation and knowing that without her intervention, they'd be registering the dog instead of giving it up. "We think our dad used it some sort of experiment."

At that moment, Dib decided that Earth would be a wonderful place if instead of being there, he could be in a dark hole somewhere, dying, and away from the less than ideal situation now currently in front of them.

The woman's reaction could only be expected, really. No one blamed her for it.

Well, maybe a little.

"**SECURITY!**"

* * *

(1) Mercy, Invader Zim style.

(2) A reference to an episode I can't quite remember at the moment regarding the fact Dib and Gaz's puppy apparently disappeared, forgotten about, until their father sent a transmission about "feeding the puppy."

(3) I SAY THIS ALL THE TIME. CLEAN_ER_. NOT. CLEAN. Puppy mouths are gross! They eat everything! I've watched my sister pull shit out of my dog's mouth! Tell me his mouth is cleaner than mine _now_!

I got bored.

Well, I mean, you see how it ends, obviously. I didn't really need to write anything else, did I?

Till the next time.


End file.
